Where Have You Gone Jo Polniaczek?
by Apple Annie
Summary: This is an AU story set in present times. The United States has fallen under fascism. Jo and Blair are in their twenties and (along with the rest of the TFOL characters) are part of an underground resistance fighting to restore democracy to the U.S.A. There are serious undertones, but this story is offered in a humorous manner. Satire is a protected under the First Amendment.
1. Where Have You Gone, Jo Polniaczek?

Jo ran down a dark alley and quickly ducked behind a dumpster. Shots rang out from the street as bullets ricocheted off the walls. She covered her head as the police on the streets passed her by. She checked her hands. Both were bloody.

"Damn," she sighed as she assessed the damage. "At least I'm not shot."

No. Scaling a barbwire fence that held in the "undesirables" had cut her hands.

"I wish I could say the same," Tootie glanced up at her as she held her side.

Blood gushed from her friend's wound.

"Jesus, Tootie," Jo blanched at the sight of her blood. "C'mon!"

She lifted Tootie and dragged her down the alley, pounding on a side door. An "Only I Can Fix It!" Trump poster rattled in the wind as Jo knocked louder. The door opened a crack as a sliver of light fell upon them.

"It's me!" Jo whispered hoarsely.

"Quick!" a young woman responded. "Get in here!"

"She's shot," Jo rested Tootie on a chair. "Get Cliff off the swing!"

"Thank you, Jo," Tootie grabbed her hand.

"For what? Almost getting you killed?"

"For getting me out of the gulag. You shouldn't have risked your life," Tootie's eyes drifted shut.

A very attractive man in a gold G-string ran in.

"Move away," Cliff commanded as he entered the room. When he didn't have to perform for a living in Jo's club, he was a doctor, he reminded himself. He quickly assessed the wound.

"We need to move her to the sterile environment, Jo. I'll need the blood we've been storing."

They were in the back of the club. There were three rooms: the one they were in, which served as a storage area, an office, and another, which had been converted into makeshift medical area for the many without legal healthcare and for those whom the police hunted. Cliff chose to think of this as his "sterile" environment, although it more closely resembled a M.A.S.H. unit from a war.

"Molly," Jo called out to the young woman who had opened the door. "Get the blood."

Jo and Cliff carried Tootie to his "sterile" room.

"Is she going to make it?" Jo asked as she helped him position her on the table.

He didn't answer as he adjusted his G-string and began to cleanse and investigate the wound.

"Molly, I'll need to begin an I.V. drip and get me the sterile instruments from the kitchen. Also, bring me my scrubs!"

"Jo, the police are here," Boots St. Claire informed, breathlessly, as she entered the room. She let out a small gasp as she viewed Tootie.

"Shit," Jo exhaled. "Play for time, Boots. I've got to get myself together!"

"Oh, um, okay," Boots covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to let on how upset she was.

"Now!" Jo demanded.

"Um, right, Boss," Boots exited quickly.

Salacious Showers was Jo's bar. She had taken it over and renamed it after the original owner had been arrested on the suspicion of being Muslim and it had been abandoned. It was now one of the most popular and trendy bars in New Trump City. Jo was known as the hostess who welcomed all, so long as they were rich folks, white supremacists, or Russians. Salacious Showers was a place where the ruling class felt comfortable and pampered by their very solicitous hostess while they indulged some of their more prurient pastimes. Jo could not let them see the blood and cuts on her hands. She rushed into her office, washed her hands and face, reapplied her make-up, and brushed her hair. She pulled on a blue jacket, which she figured would please the police, with long sleeves that could hide her bruised and bloody hands. She entered the main floor of her bar completely composed and casual.

"Gentlemen," she smiled broadly as she greeted the police officers. "So glad you could make it tonight!"

"Are you kidding?" a corpulent officer enthused. "This is the only place in town where you can see a flesh show and a zombie Ted Nugent!"

It was true. The old rock star, Ted Nugent, had accidently shot himself through the head with a hunting arrow many years ago. He had made plans to cryogenically freeze himself, but something had gone terribly wrong, and now… he was a zombie. The strains of "Stranglehold" began to ring out. The achingly haunting lyrics " _Some people think they gonna die some day, I got news, ya never got to go,_ " drifted over the crowd as the zombie rock star with an arrow straight through his head rocked ominously upon the stage, his guitar playing oddly unencumbered by his lack of a brain.

"Hey, where's that cute guy with the gold G-string?" another macho cop with a gun slung about his waist queried.

"It's straight-night, tonight," Jo informed without thinking.

"Hey! We're straight!" several cops hollered at her over the music.

"Right! We're all straight here!" Jo immediately recognized her mistake.

"Damn straight, sister," the corpulent cop threw his arm over her shoulder.

"Hey! I've got the best seats in the house waiting for my special friends from the police force!" Jo announced as she led them to a table with a smile. "The drinks are on me!"

"Right on, Trump," they gave her a fascist fist salute.

"Right on, Trump!" she saluted them back cheerfully.

Jo's smile faded as she motioned for Jeff to come over.

"You're off shift now," she whispered to the waiter. "Tootie's in back."

"What?" he questioned over the din of the music.

She pulled a small notebook out of her jacket pocket as he followed her to the bar. _Tootie's in back_ she scribbled and handed it to him. He eyed it curiously as he scratched his head.

"Oh for crying out loud," Jo complained as she waved Boots over to her. "Take him in back, discretely."

"Right, Boss!" Boots nodded as she linked her arm with Jeff's.

"Aah, Ms. Polniaczek," a sleazy, balding man with horrible lower teeth accosted her. "Your club is hopping, as usual."

It was the mayor of New Trump City. He, technically, had been elected; although the persistent hacking of voting machines made his victory dubious, to say the least. His "victory" came after the city was forced to change its name because of a Supreme Court ruling that New York was no longer, legally, entitled to the name "New York." She glanced at him, barely able to conceal her disgust. It was not that Jo had forgotten how it had become fashionable for the elite to completely whiten their top teeth and leave the bottom row as dirty, rotten reminders of who they really were, but it still repulsed and shocked her every time she saw it.

"Mr. Mayor, so good to see you again!" she feigned delight.

"I just love your place," he continued to smile. "Almost naked girls and boys swinging on ropes overhead, rock n roll, alcohol! What says America more than that?"

"Liberty and justice for all?" Jo mumbled under her breath.

"What?" he questioned.

"I said that Libertarians, juiced, just ball!" Jo lied.

"They do at that," he agreed as he eyed her lasciviously.

"Mr. Mayor," Jo slapped him on the back. "My bartender has come up with the most amazing drink: lemonade, bitters, American sarsaparilla and Russian Vodka. What could be more American than that?"

"Sounds intriguing," the mayor smiled his most stomach-turning smile as he flashed his hideous lower rack of teeth once more.

"Extra bitters, George," Jo nodded at her impossibly good-looking bartender.

"Right!" George winked as he reached under the bar for a bottle labeled "urine."

"Why… this is excellent!" the mayor held up his glass after taking a swig. "Jo, I think you've got something here!"

Both Jo and George stifled a laugh as the mayor drained his drink.

"Another!" he proclaimed as he slammed his glass upon the bar. "And one for my friend, here," he nodded at Jo.

"I'll settle for a shot of bourbon," Jo grinned at her bartender.

"To Blair Warner!" the mayor lifted his glass to the huge, electronic, three-dimensional image of Blair posing with President Trump behind the bar. "The very essence of American womanhood!"

Every hour, on the hour, like a demented cuckoo clock, the holographic image of Blair would manifest itself. It was the same all over New Trump City. Blair Warner, flashing her million-dollar smile and stating: "This is _our_ country, people! It's all about us! Be proud! And don't forget to tweet!" At that, the apparition would dissolve into the 3-D image now displayed behind Jo's bar.

"To Blair!" Jo raised her glass.

 _May she rot in hell!_

* * *

"Would Mademoiselle like another drink?" the waiter asked in English.

 _Damn, how does he know I speak English?_

Blair was frustrated and perplexed as she sat in an outdoor Paris café. She was wearing a huge hat and sunglasses with a scarf hiding her hair. She thought she had disguised herself quite well! At this point she was suspicious of everybody, _absolutely everybody_... her waiter included.

" _Un de plus, merci"_ she answered in her best French.

" _Oui, oui, tres bien_ ," the waiter bowed slightly as he traipsed off to fill her order.

" _Enchanté,"_ a man appeared behind the waiter as he took her hand and kissed it.

" _Enchanté,_ my ass, Kevin!" she retorted angrily. "Where have you been? I've been waiting here for over an hour!"

"Hey! I got held up a little. It's Paris. Whadda' you want me to say?" he sat down beside her.

"This is important," she lowered her sunglasses enough to look him straight in the eyes. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah, whatever _it_ is," he slid a small package over to her.

"Don't be so obvious!" she hissed as she quickly placed the item into her bag. "People are watching!"

"No they're not, Blair! This is France! We're free here!" he relaxed back in his chair and placed both hands behind his head.

"Don't say my name out loud! You are such an idiot!" she rose in disgust as she threw money on the table. "I've got a drink coming. It's yours."

She left the café as discreetly as was possible, considering her outrage at Kevin's lack of discretion. She hailed a cab, but where to go? She had to make sure that no one was spying on her, looking over her shoulder.

" _Bois de Boulogne,"_ she stated.

As she exited the cab, she checked to see that no one was following as she rented a rowboat and made her way to the middle of the lake. It was then that she opened the small package. She checked to make sure she was completely alone before she inserted the flash drive into her enhanced super-smart phone.

"Hey gorgeous," the familiar face of George appeared on her screen. Blair couldn't help but smile as she traced his handsome features with her fingers.

"This isn't going to be easy," he continued. "By the time you get this, it may already be too late. But, hey, we have to try, right? You are to meet an artist under the _Arc de Triomphe_ on Bastille Day. He will be painting a picture of you. He will give you a very important package that has to make its way back into the United States… such as it still exists. You cannot fly commercial. You'll have to use your Trump connections over there to enter the country privately. Leave immediately after you receive the package. The Empire Suite has been reserved for you at the Carlyle. Wait for instructions there."

"But what _is_ this package, George?" Blair whispered to herself.

As if he could hear her, the image of George replied: "I know you're wondering what this package is. Don't worry. It's not dangerous."

"Well, at least there's that," Blair rolled her eyes.

"This next part is very important, Blair. Are you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm listening," she responded as if the recorded message could hear her.

"As much as you may want to, _do not_ contact Jo," he continued. "Both your positions could be compromised by any contact between you. You're both great fighters in this struggle and neither of you can be lost."

"As if Jo would even take my call at this point," Blair pouted. "She hates me."

"Whatever you're thinking right now, Jo doesn't hate you," the message continued. "She just doesn't know you're on the same side."

Blair stared at her phone. She lifted it over her head to check it for bugs. _How could he know what I was thinking?_

"By the way, Blair, this message will disintegrate your phone in 5, 4, 3…"

"Shit!" she furiously pulled the flash drive from her phone. She couldn't get it out of her hands before it started to catch fire. She tossed it into the lake, licking her burned fingers.

"You couldn't have given me a ten-second countdown?"

* * *

Natalie reclined on the skimpy pad of her bunk and stared at the mattress over her head. She genuinely liked the woman who lay above her. She was smart, funny and used to be one of the leading voices of the resistance (as far as that went in mainstream media) before she was arrested. Now, she was just another prisoner, like her. The only problem was, sometimes she talked too much.

"Nat!" she leaned over the edge of her bunk to engage her.

"What is it, Rachel?"

"I've been thinking," she jumped down to sit beside Natalie.

" _Uh-oh,"_ Natalie thought. Usually when Rachel had been thinking, it entailed a long, drawn out theory based upon obscure facts that went on forever.

"About?" Natalie sat up beside her.

"Your friend, Blair Warner."

"Hey, whatever she is, she's not _my friend_ anymore. All those photos with Trump! Are you kidding me?"

"No, just hear me out," Rachel protested.

Nat lay back on her bunk and placed her arm behind her head to prepare for the onslaught of information she was about to receive.

"In 1973 the Justice Department sued Fred Trump, Donald's father, for housing discrimination against blacks. One of the lawyers on that case was a young attorney named Cecil Broadbent."

"So?" Natalie yawned.

"A little known fact is that Cecil Broadbent was a lifeguard at a private beach in 1965: the very year that David Warner, Sr. fell off a pier in the Hamptons, hit his head, and was resuscitated by a lifeguard. It has never been verified, but the long-standing rumor is that Cecil Broadbent was the lifeguard who rescued David Warner, Sr."

"Okay… and so?"

"What's interesting is that also in 1973 Richard Nixon's Vice President, Spiro Agnew, was charged with bribery. Back then, it was Watergate and…"

"You're about to lose me, Rachel," Nat complained.

"Follow me," Rachel gave her a sincere look. "It's about Blair Warner."

"Continue," Nat rolled her eyes.

"So, where was I?" Rachel seemed momentarily confused. "I don't have my notes."

"If we could skip over the Spiro Agnew part and just get back to Cecil Broadbent, I'd be good," Nat nodded.

"Okay then… after he left the Justice Department, Cecil Broadbent became a lawyer for Warner Industries, noted rivals of the Trumps."

"Yeah, everyone knows Blair's Dad hated Trump. But he's like disappeared, Rachel. Get to the point."

"David Warner, Jr. did hate Trump, on many levels. Yet, when Trump came to power and David disappeared, Cecil Broadbent became a part of the new administration."

"Meaning that Cecil Broadbent may be a plant?" Natalie's eyes widened as she sat up.

"Someone working on the inside: stick a pin in it!" Rachel pronounced proudly.

"So that would mean…"

"That maybe your friend, Blair, is a plant, as well!"

"You mean she may be working on the inside?"

"I think it very likely," Rachel confirmed.

"Yeah, but all those photo ops with the orange anus, I mean…"

"She's selling her role big time!"

"Geez," Natalie gazed at her incredulously. "If this is true, I owe Blair a big apology for all the name-calling I did on social media. _Of course_ she wouldn't work with Trump!" she slapped herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand.

"It's just a theory," Rachel pointed out.

"Yeah, but I know Jo Polniaczek is working for us. She's part of the underground. It would make sense if Blair and Jo were working together. They always did _everything_ together!"

"It goes without saying that we have to keep this between ourselves," Rachel whispered.

"It _does_ go without saying," Natalie smiled at her broadly.

Just then a guard walked in and started hitting their bunks noisily with a baton.

"Dykes, Jews and Fake News reporters," she announced loudly. She stopped, suddenly, and smiled… as if she had unexpectedly amused herself. "What am I saying? You're all the same scum! Time for work duty!"

* * *

"Tough night, eh Boss?" George sat across from Jo at her desk as she tended to the books after closing.

"It's always a tough night having to pander to these fascists while inside I just want to kill them all!" she responded vehemently.

"Yeah, I know. It's not a pleasant business," he agreed. "How are we doing on the counter-hacking attacks?"

"Well, I got a bunch of kids over at Ivanka Marie Trump Middle School No. 113 working on it. How 'bout from your end?"

"I've got my former military intelligence insiders working on it, as well," he assured.

"So, our best hope is the middle schoolers, then," Jo nodded.

"Can't argue with that," he agreed.

"You never did tell me how you came to know all these military intelligence guys, George," Jo queried.

"Hey, I was in the Middle East, remember? No one is there without a covert purpose."

"Which I don't want to know about, right?"

"It would be better," he gave her a rakish smile.

"Any word from California?" Jo asked.

"Still cut off," he replied. "The Wall's not completed, yet, but… "

"We can't afford to let California be walled off," Jo shook her head.

"The Russian cyber attacks have been focused intensely on Silicon Valley. They're trying to take control of the Internet, itself, it seems. Many of the companies out there are busy fighting that each day. The only thing that's still functional is social media. Twitter is under the Presidential Police protection 24-7 at this point. Hollywood is dependent on Silicon Valley since the airwaves have been taken over, so…"

"Keep trying," Jo sighed. "We need them."

"You know I will," he affirmed.

"Maybe I should get some of the middle schoolers on it," Jo offered.

"No," George objected. "You know we need our best cyber counter-insurgency warriors focused on the voting machines here!"

"Yeah, so anyway," she sighed. "On the medical front, I'm close to being able to buy the liquor store next door."

"That would be a good cover," George agreed. "Cliff's been chomping at the bit to set up an underground medical facility."

"Yeah, well, he's still going to have to strip for the crowd here," Jo eyed him. "He's one of my top draws."

"C'mon, Jo," he chided. "Anyone can be replaced. Are you sure this isn't about something else?"

She stopped her calculating long enough to look him in the eyes.

"Blair?"

"Forget Blair, Jo," George advised.

"How can I forget her? Her image is all over the place?"

"I only meant to let it go. It eats you up to hold on to past resentments."

"Past resentments?" Jo was irate. "We have to live with her image as Trump's perfect woman every goddamn day! I still can't believe how she betrayed us! Did I even know her at all?"

"It must feel terrible to you," he sighed resignedly. "I know you loved her."

"Hey! Who said I loved her?" Jo protested.

"You did, as I recall," George informed. "I remember you two as quite close."

"Yeah, well," Jo returned to her books. "That's all gone now. I still can't believe how she betrayed us… especially after her father was _disappeared_. She is dead to me. And if I ever see her again, I'll make good on that."

"So, how's Tootie?" he changed the subject.

"I checked in on her before I came over here. Cliff says she's going to make it. Jeff's with her now."

"Good news," George nodded.

"Yeah, but the whole operation was botched tonight," Jo punched in numbers on her calculator. "What was supposed to be a simple infiltrate and extraction turned into a bloody shootout."

"But you rescued her none-the-less, as always," he glanced at her bruised and bloodied hands. "Hey! Why didn't you have Cliff take care of this?"

"What? My hands?" she shrugged.

"Yes, your hands," he rounded the desk and took both of hers in his.

"It's nothing, George," she winced.

"No way, get over here," he led her to the bathroom in her office and began washing and disinfecting her hands.

"Ow! That stings!"

He ignored her as he applied healing ointment and bandages.

"This is completely unnecessary, you know!" she continued to gripe loudly.

"Yeah, I know," he ignored her.

"So, anyway, did you get Ted squared away?" she asked in a more calm tone.

"He's back in the freezer," he reassured. "But his back-up band is bitching for more money."

"Ah, give it to them," Jo shook her head. "I don't need the headache."

"Right, Boss," he smiled at her as he completed his bandaging and patted her on the hand.

"Natalie's next," she eyed him sincerely. "I need my most trusted people around me."

"I know how much you care for your old friends," he smiled as they reentered her office.

"All except one," she began her books again.

* * *

Blair rolled over as the sun streamed through her open window. The morning light felt comforting as it caressed her naked body. A gentle breeze lifted the lace curtains allowing her intermittent, unobstructed views of the Eiffel Tower. Paris. She _did_ love Paris. What a beautiful city! Yet, there was a shade which crossed her heart. It wasn't her father. She knew where he was and why he had to remain hidden. They would speak periodically on burner phones. He had to stay on the down-low now for her to accomplish her mission. Her mission: half the time she questioned what that really was. She had been instructed to stay close to Trump, which she had done, having to fight off his disgusting advances half the time. But that wasn't it, either. No. It was her friends. They all thought of her as a traitor. Both Natalie and Tootie had told her off through social media before severing their accounts from her and being arrested. God! They were in gulags in America… for what? This weighed on her greatly. But the shadow that darkened her heart this morning was the same one that had sent her to a place of gloom every day since this whole nightmare began. She would wake up and, for a second, not remember the horrible thing that had happened to her country. It was the only truly happy moment of her day. It would be then that it would hit hard, cascading in like an avalanche of sorrow in her heart: America and, right behind it, as if they were inextricably linked… Jo.

" _Mon cheri,"_ the woman beside her caressed her shoulder. " _Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?"_

"Nothing's wrong, Marie" Blair turned to her as she wrapped her in her arms and kissed her. _"_ _C'est une très belle journée!"_

" _Oui, oui._ It is a beautiful day. Yet your heart is troubled," the dark haired young woman glanced at her with concerned eyes.

"It's nothing," Blair returned her glance to the window.

Marie placed her hand on Blair's cheek and gently beckoned for her to meet her gaze.

"Every night, you give me your body," she glanced at Blair longingly. "And it is lovely and amazing and _très, très bien._ "

"It _is_ very good, Marie. I love being with you."

"But your heart," Marie placed her hand over Blair's left breast. "You do not give me your heart."

Blair sighed deeply as she turned to face the morning light once more.

"Who is this woman who possesses your heart, Blair?" Marie demanded.

"It's no one," Blair turned back to her and kissed her cheek, her lips. "There is no one."

* * *

Cliff looked around his makeshift clinic. He glanced at his patient, Tootie. The bullet was a through-and-through; she would be fine. He noticed the tender, loving affection Jeff showed her.

" _What happened to me?"_ he questioned.

He was on his way to becoming a surgeon in Dallas. It was a part of Texas that, at least, he knew still existed. He couldn't be quite so sure about Austin. And Blair?

"Blair," he breathed out heavily.

What had happened to her, that when the country had been turned upside down, she became part of the problem and not the solution? It just wasn't like Blair to do such a thing. He couldn't reconcile it. Ever since healthcare had become illegal for those making under $250,000 a year, he had devoted himself to caring for all he could. When Jo contacted him about setting up a secret clinic within her club, he was thrilled! He never dreamed that stripping would be a part of the deal. His stripper days were supposed to be behind him! He got it that Jo had to maintain the facade of a salacious club. That was the name of her establishment, after all. But that he had to swing on wires every night in a gold G-string and smile for the privileged few who were allowed freedom in what was _his_ country: unbelievable! It was even worse when he had to do "private" shows for them. He didn't want to have to remember that part, although he always would. But it was worth it if Jo could establish a clinic for him. He was wiling to make the sacrifice.

But… Blair? Since when did she care about impressing these buffoons and liars? This troubled his soul. Anyone who really knew Blair knew that she didn't give a rat's ass about appearances.

* * *

"That looks nothing like me!" Blair objected as she stared at the portrait an artist under the _Arc de Triomphe_ was painting of her. She had risked her life scampering across the most insane roundabout in all of Europe… for this? "This is insulting!"

"Mademoiselle," the artist protested quietly. "As I am sure you are aware, this is not about your image."

Blair ignored him.

"My nose is _not_ that big!"

"It would be best not to draw attention," he tried to caution her.

"And I wouldn't have a coif like that on my worst hair day!" she continued loudly, undeterred.

"Perhaps, Mademoiselle would like to check my paints," he gestured towards the table sitting beside him.

"Oh, um, perhaps Mademoiselle would," Blair recovered herself, turning her eyes from the painting as she remembered her mission.

Suddenly, the artist stood, knocking over the table and spilling its contents onto the ground.

"Let me help with that," Blair offered innocently as she bent to pick up his paints.

"Take this," he grabbed her arm and eyed her seriously.

She quickly stuffed the package into the oversized purse she was carrying.

"Now be off, before we are noticed!" he warned.

"Right," she nodded as she rose to leave.

"Blair!" her name was called out.

" _Damn! I've been discovered!"_ she thought.

She turned to see Marie, her lover, standing before her.

"You are leaving me?" Marie questioned loudly.

"Why would you think that?" Blair asked.

"You have packed your possessions and had them sent to the airport!" she replied in a desperate voice.

"Oh, that," Blair bit her lower lip. "Well, um…"

Before she could finish, Marie pulled a gun out from her purse.

"You will not leave me, Blair," she stated plaintively, her eyes filled with tears. "If I cannot have you, no one will!"

A shot rang out, echoing through the hallowed structure of the _Arc de Triomphe!_


	2. A Nation Turns Its Lonely Eyes to You

"What the fuck, Marie?" Blair screamed as her girlfriend sent a shot over her head. As much as she eschewed profanity, getting shot at could definitely bring it out of her! The bullet had ricocheted off a wall and knocked her portrait to the ground.

"Oh, mon chéri, I love you so much," Marie ran towards her.

"Meanwhile, you've managed to destroy a portrait of me," Blair complained as she lifted the painting and placed it back on the easel. She turned her head sideways as she glanced at it. The paints had smeared so as to give the painting an abstract impression "Oh, wait, this might be better!"

"This is a disaster!" the painter complained. "My artistic vision is destroyed!"

"Um, you're artistic vision was _way_ horrible," Blair complained. "If I had nostrils that big, I could've sucked up half of Paris!"

"No, no, mon chéri, your nostrils are perfect!" Marie grabbed her.

"Of course they are, Marie," Blair huffed.

"Do not leave me, Blair," Marie pleaded. "I love you."

Blair regarded her with sincere affection. She really _did_ love her. She was just not _in love_ with her.

"Marie," she placed her hands on her shoulders. "I love you, too. But, I have important work to do."

"For Monsieur Trump?"

Blair looked away, unable to lie to her face.

"Yes," she bit her lip as she whispered.

"If I cannot have you, I might as well be dead," Marie placed the gun to her own head.

"No! No, Marie," Blair placed her hand on the gun and gently lowered it to her side. "You are so beautiful, inside and out. You have to go on without me for a little while. I'll be back to Paris… soon."

"You promise, mon chéri?"

"I do, my love," Blair kissed her lips.

Just then, an unimaginable series of flashes occurred. Marie thought it was her love exploding in lights about them! But, no: it was the paparazzi that constantly dogged Blair around Europe taking pictures.

"So much for discretion," the artist complained.

* * *

The Second Amendment had replaced the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States. At this point, the Second Amendment had replaced all other amendments to the Constitution and was the only amendment left. Congress passed it, it was affirmed by the Senate and signed into law by the President. That people could be slaves again? Well, there _were_ all those great professional athletes and African Americans behaving themselves, so maybe not blacks… but children? That was a possibility! Women's rights? What a joke! And gays could go fuck themselves, as was their wont. So it was that, bereft of a First Amendment right to a free press: newspapers and media outlets ran underground. The underground headlines were scathing:

" _Trump Collaborator Blair Warner Caught in Lesbian Kiss"_ – The New York Times.

" _Trump's Sweetheart Exposed as Lesbian"_ – The Washington Post.

Only the official state newspaper, _The National Enquirer_ , put a positive spin on the story:

" _Patriot Blair Warner Sucks Truth Out of French Lezzie about European Plot Against President Trump!"_

Jo perused the newspapers before her.

"What the fuck?" she complained.

"Stop looking at that," George advised her.

Jo eyed him incredulously.

"George… why is Blair, America's Sweetheart, over there in France kissing girls?"

"Hey, it was only the New York Times and Washington Post saying that," he cajoled. "You gonna' believe everything you read?"

"There's a photo," she glanced at him more sternly.

"Photoshop?" he shrugged.

"Even _The Enquirer_ says it's true," Jo protested.

"Look, Jo, you had your chance with her and you didn't take advantage of it!" he collected the papers from her desk. "Get over it. We have important work to do!"

"I blew my chance," Jo whispered.

"Let it go, Jo. We have Mumbles coming in today. It's important to keep up the facade."

Mumbles was the Emperor of the Senate. He had no chin, no lips, and looked like the head of a turtle placed upon an ill-fitted suit. He also had the creepy habit of mumbling his words as he eviscerated the Constitution, hence the nickname. Of all the slime she had to glad-hand to maintain her facade of happy hostess, he was the one who made her skin crawl the most. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It wasn't just that he claimed to be a "Christian" and acted as if that gave him some God-given right to dictate to others how they should behave while he did whatever the hell he pleased. No. They _all_ did that. It wasn't his lack of lips or a chin, either (although that was pretty creepy!). Somehow, she felt, that he gripped his own hands too tightly under the table whenever he visited the club. It was as if he didn't do this, he would reach out and grab something… but what? The most obvious answer was her dancers. And _no one_ touched her dancers! She made sure of that. But, still, she couldn't be sure what those hands desired, that he had to grip them so tight that his knuckles turned white. She was almost afraid to turn her back on him: scared that he might reach out to choke the life out of her with desperate, evil, hungry hands. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up with creepiness whenever he was around.

"Mumbles," Jo shook her head. "Completely creepy."

"Ah, but you're the hostess with the mostest," George grinned.

"That's me!" Jo smiled ironically as she rolled her eyes. She stood and faced herself in the mirror. She was wearing an elegant white suit replete with tails and a bow tie. She looked very stylish and sophisticated, she thought to herself. _If Blair could see this, she wouldn't be kissing other girls in Paris._ What was she thinking? Blair didn't care about her anymore! How had that stray thought even entered her brain? She had no feelings for Blair, she reminded herself.

"I just hope we're making a difference," she sighed and tugged on her vest.

"I have a feeling we will… very soon," George winked in the mirror behind her as he massaged her shoulders.

* * *

The phone under the bar rang. George picked it up.

"Outside… now!" was the terse command.

"Hey, Boss," George waved Jo over. "Gonna' take a break!"

"No way, you're not leaving me alone with Mumbles!"

"C'mon," he smiled. "He's not even here yet. I'll just be a minute!"

"Okay, then" Jo nodded. "But don't go far."

As George walked outside he was abruptly shoved against the wall.

"You had a job to do!" a young man shouted into his face.

"And I'm doing it," George defended himself.

"Let him go," an older man approached.

"You wrinkled my work clothes," George stated flippantly to the younger man as he released him. He straightened his jacket and tie. "I won't forget that."

"George," the older man approached. "Your mission was to get inside and find out what this lady was up to, remember?"

"I remember," he smirked.

"So?"

"So I've been keeping an eye on it."

"And?" the man lit a cigarette.

"And she's running a club with underground connections."

"We knew that," the older man exhaled a stream of smoke. "What else?"

"She's rescuing people from the gulags."

"How the hell is she doing that?" the younger man blurted out.

"With grit and blood," he responded.

"Listen," the older man poked into his chest with a lit cigarette in his hand. "We need more information from you than that."

"It's the best I can do, for now," George responded.

"Not good enough, my friend," the man took another drag off his smoke.

"Whadda' ya want from me?" he shrugged.

"We know something is about to go down," the older man threw his cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with the toe of his shoe. "You have to get us that information."

"I will," George stated resignedly.

"You better," the older man's eyebrows rose as he gave him an ominous glare. "If she becomes a problem..."

"She won't," George tried to reassure.

"But if she does? You know what you have to do. Your life hangs in the balance, as well," the older man threatened.

"Just get out of here," he smirked at the both of them dismissively.

With that, both men turned, walked a few paces down the street, and entered a waiting car. George watched as the vehicle took off and disappeared into the night.

"Shit," he exhaled loudly, adjusted his tie, and proceeded back into the club, not noticing a pair of eyes that had observed him closely from the shadows.

* * *

Blair entered the private jet at Charles de Gaulle Airport with her usual élan. She had kept her oversized purse with its secret contents slung over her arm. She gripped it tightly.

"Blair Warner!" a balding, short man approached her enthusiastically. "My friend, Donald, has described you correctly!"

To her horror, she was face-to-face with Vladimir Putin, himself! Aside from the flight attendants, they were alone!

"So nice to meet you," she recovered herself quickly as he took both her hands in his own.

"Allow me to show you photos," he led her to a seat. He whipped out his smart phone and began to produce a series of pictures of himself shirtless: on a horse, next to an obelisk, by a rocket, eating a hotdog in front of the Washington Monument and with an oddly shaped teapot with a prolonged spout.

"You are very attractive shirtless, indeed!" she tried to be polite.

"I am masculine!" he stated proudly. He slid closer to her as he whispered in her ear. "I am available for the mile-high club. Just for you!"

"Oh, um, I'm sure," Blair stammered nervously. "But, I'm not inclined on this trip."

She rubbed her stomach.

"Bad French food," she begged off.

"No matter," he dismissed her abruptly as he eyed an attractive male flight attendant passing through the cabin. "I will make do."

Once the jet gained full speed and they were airborne, Putin followed the male flight attendant into the galley. The door closed. There were noises that she hoped, someday, she could forget… although she probably never would.

As the flight continued, the noises became worse. What were they doing back there? OMG! Were they peeing on each other? Blair couldn't stand it. She had to distract herself. She looked in her bag. The package was there. Should she look? She was told not to… but what could it hurt at 33,000 miles up over the Atlantic? She opened it and what she saw shocked her!

"Girl Scouts of America: Eyes Only!"

* * *

"Rachel, get down!" Natalie hissed back at her friend as they crawled along the fence line at night. The gulag searchlight was about to hit them.

"But, Nat, I think I've found something here!" Rachel called out.

"Shhhh!" Natalie cautioned. Just then, her reporter curiosity got the better of her. "What is it?"

"It's a fortune from a fortune cookie!"

"Are you kidding me? We're about to be caught!" Natalie covered her as the searchlight passed over them.

"It's the third one I've found," Rachel continued. "It can't be a coincidence."

"Well?" Natalie rolled her eyes, not believing she was asking. "What do they say?"

"The first one says: Patience is a virtue. The second: All good things come to those who wait. These seem to be messages."

"And the third?" Natalie questioned eagerly.

"You think he loves you, but he does not," Rachel read. "That seems to be an anomaly, here."

"To say the least," Natalie rolled her eyes.

"The history of fortune cookie messages is very interesting, by the way," Rachel continued. "Fortune cookies were first made by a San Francisco bakery in the 1890's. David Jung, founder of the Hong Kong Noodle Company in Los Angeles, made a competing claim that he invented the cookie in 1918. San Francisco's Court of Historical Review attempted to settle the dispute in 1983…"

"Rachel!" Nat stopped her. "I do not need the history of fortune cookies right now! I just need to know if someone is trying to get a message to us, particularly Jo. That's why we came out here tonight, right?"

"Right. Of, course," Rachel agreed. "I think the first two are possibly messages, but the third?"

"This was probably a bad idea," Natalie shook her head. "I just wanted to check and see if the underground was trying to communicate with us. No stone left unturned, right?"

"It was a noble effort," Rachel acknowledged.

"Back to the barracks?" Nat shrugged.

"For now," Rachel agreed.

* * *

Blair settled into her suite at the Carlyle. She showered and, dressed only in her robe, reclined on an overstuffed chair as she received a foot massage with a soothing eye treatment over her face. Calming music emanated from the suite's speakers as she attempted to forget the horrific plane ride she had just experienced. One could tolerate many things, but the lack of the most basic comforts? She sighed as she relaxed back into the chair. Her phone chirped as a text message was received.

"Shall I stop while you check your message?" the masseuse queried.

"No," Blair yawned. She lifted her eye treatment momentarily to take a sip off of her gimlet and give a quick gaze and smile to the very attractive young woman rubbing her feet. "It can wait."

She shut off her phone, replaced her eye treatment and relaxed back into the chair. What a day! She had a secret rendezvous with a horrible Paris artist, was shot at, photographed kissing another woman, subjected to crude advances by a leader of state (not to mention having to listen to him having sex… just _eew!_ ), and now was waiting for "instructions" (whatever _that_ meant) in a hotel room! Yet, she reflected, it was nothing compared to what her former friends were putting up with. When would this nightmare be over? She drifted into a fantasy:

 _She was alone on a road, shrouded by fog… lost. She turned slowly as she heard the roar of a motorcycle behind her. It was Jo: a vision in white! "Hop on, Blair," she gave her a crooked grin. The fog disappeared. Blair wrapped her legs around her as Jo gunned the engine. "But, where are we going?" she asked. "I'm taking you away," was the answer as they took off at a furious pace. "Away from here." Her arms clung tightly about Jo's waist as she rested her head between her shoulders, feeling safe, secure, and…_

"Away from here," she sighed.

A loud knocking on the hotel door jolted her from her reverie.

"Oh my goodness!" the masseuse jumped up, startled.

Blair removed her eye treatment and sat up.

"It's okay," she reassured the young woman. "I have a pretty good idea who it is. Hand me my slippers, would you?"

Blair walked casually to the door as the knocking continued.

"Who is it?" she asked sweetly.

"You know goddamn good and well who it is!" came the gruff reply.

"He get's so angry when I won't answer my texts," she shrugged at the masseuse as she opened the door.

Cecil Broadbent entered the room in a huff.

"How many times do you have to be told not to turn off your secure phone, Blair, really!" he complained bitterly.

"Calm down, Cecil," Blair advised. "You're going to give yourself a coronary. I was receiving a foot massage from this lovely young woman whom you've frightened half out of her wits, by the way."

"Will that be all, Ms. Warner?" the young woman looked at her apprehensively.

"Thank you, yes," Blair held the door open for her. As the masseuse exited, Blair slid a huge tip into her hand. "I might need your services later," she nodded towards Cecil. "I feel a pain in my neck coming on."

"Very well then," she smiled broadly at Blair.

"Operatives must keep their phones on _at all times_!" he barked at Blair as she shut the door.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not an _operative_ ," she barked back at him. "And second of all, no one living in the civilized world leaves their phone on during a massage!"

"Blair," he exhaled deeply as he calmed himself. "Nevermind. Just give me the item."

"All this fuss over a little package for the Girl Scouts of America," Blair tossed it to him. "I don't get it."

"Blair!" he eyed her incredulously. "You were not supposed to look inside!"

"So what? Now you're going to have to kill me?"

"Did you open it?" he glanced at her suspiciously.

"Of for crying out loud, Cecil, I've seen enough spy movies to know what _Eyes Only_ means! I was never a Girl Scout, so I didn't open it!"

"Well, I guess that makes sense," he scratched his head.

"What's in it, anyway?" she asked.

"Top secret, as you said."

"Look," she became irritated. "I'm tired of all this hush-hush stuff. I've been given the worst job in the world, cozying up to Trump and Putin and their ilk. All my friends believe it! The whole world believes it!"

"Well, probably not anymore after your public indiscretion in Paris. It's all over the press already. What were you thinking, Blair?"

"Ah, that's no big deal," she waved him off. "Join the 21st Century, Cecil. And just exactly _what_ was I supposed to do all that time in France, by the way? Twiddle my thumbs in an artsy café waiting for instructions? I have needs like everyone , _The Enquirer_ will parse it out so that I'm a hero, somehow."

"They already have," Cecil acknowledged begrudgingly.

Blair shrugged and gave him a superior look as if to say: _"I told you so."_

"It does suck, though," she sighed.

"What? _The Enquirer_?"

"No! That news about me in Paris beat me across the Atlantic!"

"It did," he eyed her and shrugged. "Digital age: can't be helped."

"I don't like it," she bit her lower lip. "I get enough bad press as it is."

"The underground press is having a field day," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Anyone reading the underground press doesn't care that I kissed a girl, I can assure you," she retorted angrily as she recovered herself.

She retrieved her gimlet and plopped down on the couch. Jo read the underground press, she assumed. What would _she_ think of her kissing a beautiful woman in Paris? Ah, what did it matter… she was dead to Jo, her fantasies aside, and she knew it.

"Nevertheless, you have to be more discreet," he cautioned. "Your part in all of this is important. You're an insider. You can glean valuable information for us."

"I don't even know who _us_ , is!" she complained.

"Us, you know, The Underground," he clarified.

"Yeah, but who's running this show, Cecil? Who's in charge here? Do you even know?"

He sat down beside her and let his guard down for a moment.

"Honestly, Blair, I don't," he sighed as he rested his head on the couch. "I'm not even sure I _want to_."

"Jesus, Cecil, how do we know we're not working for Trump's people at this point?"

He laughed a little.

"Because they're not smart enough to run an operation like this."

"You're right, of course," she gave him an ironic smile.

"All I know is that your father contacted me before he had to disappear. He put me in touch with some people who wanted to save our democracy."

"And you have no idea who they are? CIA? FBI? NSA?"

"Definitely not NSA. They're still spying on us all for their own purposes at this point. But rogue elements within the intelligence community who actually still believe in the Constitution? That's a definite possibility."

Blair rose, walked over to the bar and poured him a drink. She sat down beside him again as she handed it to him.

"And let's not discount the Girl Scouts of America!" she gave him her most charming smile.

He raised his drink and clinked it against hers.

"To the Girl Scouts!" they toasted together.

* * *

"Mumbles, er um, Senator," Jo quickly corrected herself as she greeted him at the door of her club.

"Mmm, what did you say, young lady?" he murmured in a voice so low and muddled she could barely understand him.

"Grumbles. I said that the ladies of Kentucky must be in a state of grumbles to miss your delightful company tonight!"

"Yes," he nodded absently.

"Your regular table, Sir?" she smiled pleasantly.

"Of course," was all he offered as he and his entourage were shown to a table in back, in the shadows, as he preferred.

"I would like a special drink tonight," he grabbed Jo's arm. "One that only I can have, and no one else can partake in."

"Of course, Senator," Jo smiled graciously. "I have just the thing!"

As she turned to leave, he yanked at her wrist.

"I want _you_ to bring it to me personally," he demanded.

"I wouldn't have it any other way!" Jo forced the fake smile that had become second nature to her.

As she approached the bar, she saw George returning from his break.

"Good, you're back," she rounded the bar and approached him.

"I see Mumbles has arrived," he smirked.

"Get this, George. He wants a _special_ drink: one that no one else can have," Jo shook her head in disgust.

"Load it up with urine, Boss?" he winked.

"Let's get some of Cliff's blood reserves in it, as well," her eyes narrowed. "Just for color, you understand."

"I do, indeed," George nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I want lots of agave sweetener to hide the taste and give him the shits later."

"Any preference on the alcohol?" he queried.

"Kentucky Bourbon, of course," she smiled.

Jo returned to Mumble's table with her new drink concoction. She placed it before him.

"I call it _To Your Health!_ , Senator. It's unique, only for you. Let me know what you think of it!"

"Sit down," he gurgled.

"What?" Jo didn't understand his monotone command.

"Sit down, girl," he repeated more audibly.

Jo hated almost every second of her charade as the club owner who catered to the ruling class. She was not an actress, like Tootie, for cryin' out loud. She had learned how to smile and be pleasant for the sake of the cause. But… taking orders? This was something new. She swallowed hard.

"Of course," she managed to choke out as she sat beside him.

He took a sip of his drink and eyed her. His hand made its way over to her knee.

"Um, Senator," she objected.

He squeezed her leg hard as he glared at her over the wire-rimmed glasses that hung from his elongated ears.

"Pray with me," he intoned seriously.

"No, I think not," Jo responded cordially.

"If you won't pray with me, you are anti-Christian and, therefor, anti-American," he insisted in his emotionless monotone. "All Christians pray together."

"I'm Catholic," she responded coolly as she forcefully removed his hand from her knee. "As if that should matter. Italian/Polish to be precise."

"A mongrel, then," he took another sip of his drink casually and placed his hand back on her knee. "The mongrel races were not what the Christian framers of the Constitution had in mind. But I enjoy the native depravity from time to time."

Jo was dumbstruck. She couldn't fathom what he was talking about and didn't know how to respond. At long last, her anger got the better of her. She jumped up. Her face was red and her fists clenched. She wanted to rip him apart limb by limb. She thought about the stash of weapons that she had collected upstairs… just in case. She could take this limp piece of crap out with one shot. Then, she thought about the cause she had devoted herself to over the past few years: restoring freedom to America. She calmed herself.

"No one is allowed to touch anyone in my club: not me, not my dancers, not my servers. I have very few rules, but that what happens outside, stays outside and that no one inside gets touched. I appreciate your patronage and hope you will continue to feel at home here, Senator. But everyone has to respect the rules or it doesn't work. Your friends Rudy, Paul and Sean have all agreed. I am going to have to ask you to respect those rules, as well."

"Rules don't apply to me," he mumbled as he looked away. "You'll soon find that out."

The band began to play.

"Enjoy Ted Nugent," Jo eyed him as she turned on her heels and quickly made her way back to the safety of the bar. George could see she was upset.

"Mumbles give you a hard time?" he asked as he placed a supportive arm around her.

"The worst," Jo complained as she shook her head. "Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

"Me neither," he agreed.

* * *

It was 3 a.m. Closing time for _Salacious Showers_. Jo leaned on her office desk with her head between her hands: what a day! It started with pictures of Blair kissing a girl in Paris and ended with Mumbles touching her! Her skin crawled at the thought of it. There was a knock on the door. George entered.

"Got the cash for the night?" Jo looked up.

"Credit card receipts, as well," he nodded.

He noticed her gloomy disposition.

"What's bothering you, Jo?" he asked pleasantly.

"Everything. Are you kidding me?" she responded.

"You can't let Mumbles get to you, Jo," George advised.

"It's not just that," Jo replied. She eyed him intently. "Listen, I've got a lot of things set up to topple this phony government, George. It's just that I'm not sure how it's all going to turn out, you know?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… is it going to come to a physical, guns-blazing revolution or will we be able to do this legally, peacefully?"

"I can't help you with that. I don't have a crystal ball," George shook his head. "But, are you ready?"

"For the guns-blazing part?" Jo exhaled loudly. "I mean, physically, yes. But emotionally?"

"Yeah, who would want to have to take their country back that way?" he agreed. "But, you've got a lot of weapons?"

"You know this, George. Remember?"

"Not enough by my calculation, unless there's something I don't know."

Jo shrugged.

"You know how you don't tell me about all those things you did in the Middle East?" she smiled at him broadly.

"Yeah," he drew out.

"Well, back at you, George."

"Okay, Boss," he stood to leave. "Got it."

As he left the office, Boots made her way in. She eyed him suspiciously as she entered.

"Hey, Boots," Jo nodded as she sat down. "Did you deliver the message?"

"I did," Boots checked to make sure George had left. "I delivered three messages."

"What?" Jo was upset. "I only asked you to communicate one message to Natalie: be patient, help is on the way!"

"That was before," Boots looked over her shoulder again.

"Before what?"

"Listen, Jo, I've been spying on George."

Jo rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, exasperated, ready to listen to whatever hair-brained idea Boots had in her head next.

"I've overheard things… like tonight. He was out there with two Men In Black asking about you and making him promise to do things to you if you _try_ anything."

"Yeah, well, George has a lot of strange contacts," Jo yawned. "He wouldn't betray me."

"Don't be so sure, Jo!" Boots was emphatic. "These men directly threatened you!"

"And George said?" Jo questioned.

"Well, um, he said you wouldn't be a problem. But they said that if you were, he would know what to do and that his life was in danger, as well. That indicates to me, Jo, that George might be a mole and may possibly do you harm!"

"And you've followed him before this?" Jo asked.

"I've seen him with Men In Black before, yes!"

Jo rocked back into her chair again.

"I don't know what it means, but I'll find out," she sighed deeply. "Meanwhile, about the message…"

"Oh, I took extra precautions. I dropped three fortune cookie messages!"

"What?!" Jo sat up and stared at her incredulously. "You dropped fortune cookie messages? I asked you to drop a message written on the masthead of the Times or Post so they'd know it was from me!"

"But, don't you see, Jo? This was better? We don't know whom we can trust at this point. It was completely cryptic!"

Jo shook her head and rubbed her brow.

"Dare I ask what they said?"

"I was so brilliant, Jo! The first one said: Patience is a virtue. The second: All good things come to those who wait."

"And the third?" Jo eyed her in disbelief.

"You think he loves you, but he does not," Boots was particularly proud of this message.

"Meaning?" Jo was confused.

"It's about George, get it?" Boots smiled proudly.

"And you sent that message to Nat because she works with him everyday?"

"Oh," Boots considered. "Right. I should have saved that one for you."

Jo was speechless for a moment.

"Correct, that should've been the fortune cookie message you saved for me," she finally recovered herself as she shook her head ironically. "Listen, thanks for the intell, Boots. You're a team player. I can always count on you."

"You got it, Boss!" Boots stood, feeling proud of her contribution to the cause as she left the room.

"Oh my God," Jo whispered to herself as she gathered the night's cash and entered the dark closet which contained the club's safe. "Could tonight get any weirder?"

She opened the safe and deposited the cash. She scrambled the combination as she closed the door. _Damn!_ She had forgotten the credit card receipts that she had placed in her pocket. She dialed open the safe once more. As she placed the slips of paper into the box, she felt a sudden chill and a disconcerting sense of unease. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

It was then that cold fingers closed about her neck.


	3. We'd Like to Know a Little Bit About You

Tootie awoke with a start! She didn't know where she was or what she was doing there! She looked around desperately before feeling a sharp stabbing in her side and cringing in pain.

"Hey, hey now," Jeff quickly ran to her and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Don't move. You've been injured. You'll hurt yourself."

"What happened?" she looked at him alarmed.

"Jo rescued you, remember? You're upstairs at her club."

Tootie rested back down into the bed. She closed her eyes. She _did_ remember. Jo had appeared as an agent of the government to question her in the prison. The plan was to escort her out. Things went wrong and they had to run. Then she was…

"I got shot?" she eyed him curiously.

"Yeah, Babe, you caught a bullet. You've been in and out of it for a couple days. But you're going to be okay. Cliff's been taking good care of you."

"Thank God Jo got me out of the _Black Lives Matter_ gulag, Jeff! It was hell!"

"I'm sure it was, Babe. No reason to talk about it now," he assured her.

"No!" she was adamant. "It was hell! They told us if we were just good African Americans who behaved ourselves that we could be released. Meanwhile, they fed us fried chicken, watermelon, and… chitlins!"

"Not chitlins!" his face twisted in disgust. "Cause white folk don't know how to make chitlins and if they're not cleaned properly?"

"Jeff," she touched his arm. "I'm not from the South. I have never, and will never, eat chitlins, okay?"

"Well, that's a relief," he smiled at her.

They both laughed.

"I'm so glad you're here," she took his hand.

"Where else would I be?" he gazed at her lovingly. "Oh, by the way, your friend, Blair, has been all over the news!"

"Blair? Why?" Tootie asked curiously.

He handed her a copy of the Washington Post with the photo of Blair kissing another woman in Paris.

"Oh my God!" Tootie gasped. "Blair is gay?"

Jeff shrugged as Tootie began to laugh uproariously. She quickly grabbed her side in pain.

"You okay, Babe?" he was concerned.

"No. That hurt," she smiled broadly as tears ran down her face. "But it was totally worth it. Thanks for sharing that with me, Jeff."

"Glad to be able to bring some joy into your life," he smiled.

"Hey, not that I've got a problem with folks being gay…" she quickly added.

"Me neither," he replied.

"It's just… Blair. Ya' know?"

"I do get the irony," he agreed.

"Oh, by the way," she quickly changed tone. "So, Jo's okay?"

"She's downstairs," he kissed her. "She's just fine."

* * *

As Jo felt the cold fingers wrap around her neck, she turned in fright.

"Pop!" she screamed at her father. "You scared me half out of my wits!"

"Hey, Kid! I was just trying to massage those tense shoulders of yours," Charlie gave her a crooked grin.

"Why are your hands so cold?"

"Oh, I, uh… grabbed a beer from your bar. Didn't think you'd mind," he explained.

"So, you're here with the shipment?" she sat back down and rocked in her chair.

"Yep," he sat across from her as he rested his feet on top of her desk and took a swig off of his beer. "Whatever _the shipment_ is."

"I really appreciate you using the hidden compartment in your truck, but it's better you don't know, Pop."

"Look, kid, I get the feeling you're way over your head in this," he eyed her with concern.

"I'm not, Dad. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"So… what's in my secret compartment? I didn't get to see," he questioned her.

"Like I said… it's better you don't know. Plausible deniability."

"I hope it's not weapons, Jo," he shook his head.

"No, Pop, I would never put you in that position!"

"Me and my brothers in the Teamsters Union are 100% behind the resistance movement. I'd just like to know that I'm not shipping something that could get my daughter killed."

"It's medical supplies, okay, Pop? You're shipping illegal medical supplies. We're setting up a medical facility next door."

"Just as dangerous, Jo," he shook his head. "You know they don't want folks to have health care."

"I know," she sighed. "But, I've got to try."

"How deep _are you_ into the underground, Jo?" he eyed her with concern. "I don't want you getting shot up in some street battle with the police."

"I don't want that either," Jo shook her head. "But, hey, if worse comes to worse?"

"The police are trained to use weapons, Jo. You don't stand a chance," Charlie cautioned.

"I'm a pretty good shot!"

"I know, I'm the one who taught you!" he smirked. "Still got that pistol I gave you for protection?"

"Yep," Jo rocked back in her chair.

"Got any other weapons?" he queried.

"I can't talk about things like that," she sat up.

"I'm worried about you, Jo. You could get killed."

"I don't want to shoot at anyone either, Pop! Geez! That would be awful!"

"Promise me you won't don't anything crazy, Kid," he sighed.

"We're hoping it doesn't come to that. Still trying to work within the system."

"The system's kinda' broke," he took another swig off his beer. "How you gonna' fix that?"

Jo gazed at her father. He was right, of course. She didn't really know _how_ she was going to fix it. Plans were just starting to take shape. She had operatives in very sensitive places: operatives who didn't even know they were working for her. She had made inroads getting through to California with her cyber experts at the middle schools. Hollywood and Silicon Valley might still come riding to the rescue. She had weapons upstairs for worse case scenario: the last defense. Yet, she still hoped she could take down this house of cards government, which had become the ruling class of America, without firing a shot. Was it realistic? She didn't know. But she had put a whole lot of good people in perilous positions in this fight for freedom. And that's what it was… a battle for the soul of America.

"I don't know, Pop, but I gotta' try."

* * *

Blair had been summoned to the Dark Tower. What was once merely an ostentatious glass and steel "business" building on Fifth Avenue, now served as the malignant heart and soul of the United States Government. Razor wire and armed guards surrounded it. A high-tech surveillance unit had been installed on top of the tower that constantly swept the City for any signs of insurrection and gave off an eerie red glow at night. She straightened her jacket nervously as she rode the escalator to the landing that would allow her access to the executive elevator. She fluffed her hair as a security guard entered the elevator with her and pushed the button for the penthouse. He began running a wand over her body. It chirped.

"Jewelry?" his eyebrows rose.

Blair removed her earrings and necklace and handed it to him. He ran the wand over her again. It chirped once more.

"Watch?" he questioned.

Blair removed her watch and handed it to him as she huffed indignantly. The wand chirped once more.

"Cell phone?" he gazed at her clutch.

"You are not getting my cell phone!" Blair protested loudly.

"Nor should he," a voice was heard as the elevator doors opened. It was Melania. "Leave her be."

"Thank you," Blair stated with sincere gratitude as she exited the elevator.

She wasn't quite sure if Melania's face looked more like a wax impression or that it had been dipped in formaldehyde or both. It barely moved as she spoke. Botox, she guessed. Yet, she felt an odd sympathy for her. _She_ hadn't asked for any of this. She had just married a rich guy, as many young underwear models do, hoping for a better life. That his insane lust for fame and revenge had brought her to the ugly pinnacle of worldwide control and power was not her fault.

"Follow me," she turned and led Blair down a dimly lit hallway to an equally gloomy spiral staircase. It was as if the darkness that now enveloped the country had it's beginning here on this level of the Dark Tower… everything was in shadows. Melania held out her cell phone and clicked on a flashlight app. It did not work, but this didn't seem to faze her.

"Stay close to the cell phone, the staircase _can be_ treacherous," her mouth barely moved as she cautioned in her thick Eastern European accent.

"Um, okay," Blair followed her.

"Is Tiffany here?" she questioned nervously. "I was only a few grades ahead of her at Eastland."

"Who?" Melania turned to her slowly, her mouth barely moving as she spoke.

"Tiffany? The President's daughter?" she eyed her expectantly. Blair thought she detected an eye-roll, but it was hard to tell due to the frozen nature of her face.

"He has only one daughter," Melania continued up the stairs. "Ivanka."

"Oh, I uh… thought differently," Blair stammered as she followed.

"You will learn," Melania's face looked troubled as she opened the doors to the penthouse at the top of the stairs.

Blair entered a dark room lit by only the glow of 30 or so television screens running simultaneously and placed in front of a golden throne. She could not see who was placed in front of the screens as she faced the back of the throne. But, an odd tuft of hair was visible above the ornate chair, so it wasn't hard to guess.

"Would you care for a brandy?" Melania asked her husband.

"No," came the reply from the throne.

She began to walk away, but then slowly turned back to him.

"Some varm milk, perhaps?" she questioned.

"No. Thank you very much. No thanks."

She recoiled momentarily, as if in disgust, before turning to him one last time.

"Ovaltine?"

"Nothing!" he barked out. "I'm a little tired! I've got all these newsfeeds to tweet back at!"

" _I'd_ like some Ovaltine!" Blair touched Melania's arm as she left the room.

"Oh, Blair, is that you?" Donald Trump rose from his golden throne. He took both of her hands into his own as he kissed her cheek. She had to resist the impulse to wipe it off onto the collar of her shirt. "Of course you want Ovaltine! You're the All American Girl! Come! Sit! Help me with my tweets!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I'm a little confused. You asked me here to help you with your tweets?"

"Of course, not," he released her hands from his own. "I have something bigger in mind for you. You've seen that old hag who calls herself my wife? She's like 47 or 48 or something; believe me, she's old. Where is she with my warm milk, by the way?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure you told her you didn't want it," Blair replied nervously.

"No. I want you! America's Sweetheart! The very embodiment of white superiority! Whadda you say, Blair? Quite the honor, huh?"

Blair was momentarily silent, unable to respond.

"I was, uh, in school with your daughter, Tiffany," she finally blurted out.

"Who?" he gave her a questioning look.

"You're daughter?" she reiterated.

"Ivanka's fine," he stated confidently. "The best girl in the world!"

Blair was becoming increasingly agitated.

"What is it that you want from me?" she blurted out angrily.

"Look, the Boy Scouts love me, the police love me, all of America loves me! But I'm constantly undermined with fake news reports about the size of my crowds, the size of my victory, the size of my hands…"

"Still don't see what this has to do with me," she shook her head as she backed away from him. "And where's my Ovaltine, by the way?"

"She's useless," he spit out bitterly. "Won't even hold my hand in public anymore. Can you believe that?"

"Probably can't find it," Blair whispered as she bit her lip.

"What did you say?" he bellowed.

"Probably can't find the Ovaltine," she clarified, cheerfully.

"Come, sit, I want to show you something!" he stated excitedly.

He was dressed in an old school smoking jacket over his pajamas. His "hair" was disheveled and he looked much older and fatter in person, she noted. She had met him before, of course, but always in some sort of official capacity when he had made himself up to look presentable with an oversized coat and huge tie. She sat in a small chair placed next to his throne.

"Watch the screen on bottom left," he instructed.

He started flipping through channels of ordinary people and places.

"The NSA set this up for me," he stated smugly. "I can spy on anyone!"

"The NSA?" Blair was aghast. "I thought they were kinda' neutral."

"They're whores. They'll put out for anyone with a security clearance," he sniffed. "I don't trust them, but they'll work for me, so…"

The screen flashed to Salacious Showers, Jo's club, as he continued to fiddle with the remote.

"Oh my!" Blair couldn't help but blurt out.

"Salacious Showers?" Trump eyed her curiously. "You know the place?"

"No. Never been," Blair replied quickly. "I've just heard of it, is all."

"Yeah, run by your former school chum, Jo Polniaczek. She's a good friend now, and a looker, like you. Boy I'd love to grab her by the…"

"Is there a reason you summoned me here?" she interrupted. "I mean, aside from your proposal that I replace your wife? Because, I'm sure you saw the photos from Paris. Everyone has by now."

"I loved the photos from Paris!" he pronounced.

"I was kind of under the impression that you weren't a fan of LGBTQ."

"Don't know what that is," he shrugged. "Don't care. But, hey… you like other girls? Not a problem, believe me," he gave her the okay sign with his tiny hand.

There was an awkward pause as they both stood and eyed each other.

"I'm not going to marry you, so just get to the point!" Blair was emphatic.

"I love it!" he took her hand as she tried not to recoil. "You're everything Melania is not!"

"Moving on," Blair sighed. "I'm here because?"

"I want to give you the Medal of Freedom Award. It will be a huge public presentation, believe me!"

"But why, Mr. President?" she asked, feigning respect.

"I need a public distraction next Friday," his voice became conspiratorial. "Something bigly is going down. I can't have eyes on it or fake news will lie about it!"

"What's going down, Mr. President?" Blair suddenly took on a coquettish voice.

"It's a military thing my generals have hatched. They are so loyal to me, Blair. You won't believe how loyal they are. They love me because I'm the best, most amazing leader ever! No need to worry your pretty little head about it. Just be on the Capitol Steps in Washington next Friday for me to present you with the Medal of Freedom."

"Okay then," she rose to leave.

"Oh my God!" he yanked her down by the arm. "Did you see this? They're making fun of me in New Zealand! Fake news! What should I tweet?"

"I need to go," Blair responded.

"But that's an English speaking country! People can understand…"

"They understand in non-English speaking countries, as well, I can assure you, Sir," Blair exhaled in an exasperated manner. "I've got to go."

"No!" he demanded. "There is one last thing I need to show you!"

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to a room behind the television screens.

"I have the most amazing thing here. You won't believe it! It's so incredible!"

Blair looked in disbelief at what appeared to be an old-school camera obscura overlooking all of New Trump City.

"But why would you need this?" she asked incredulously. "Seeing as the NSA is spying for you?"

"The NSA are whores. I already told you. This gives me power!" his eyes narrowed and glowed in an evil manner. His hair looked even more disheveled than before.

"You are the most powerful man, ever!" Blair tried to back away as she lied to him.

"I am!" his puffy eyes suddenly glowed red.

The phone rang. Trump, suddenly, looked nervous as it continued to ring.

"Do you need to get that?" she asked.

"I don't need to do anything," he twitched. He stood motionless for a second as the ringing continued. "I am the leader of the Free World!"

After a few more rings, he nervously grabbed the phone.

"Oh, yes Vlad! I have done so! Exactly as you asked…"

Blair took advantage of the opportunity to quickly make her way towards the exit. She ran down the spiral staircase towards the elevator. The guard pushed the button for the lobby as he returned her jewelry and watch. She quickly threw them into her clutch. He was silent and did not engage her. As the elevator descended, she began to resent her role in the "resistance" more and more. Others got to be bold and noble. They could pen strong resistance pieces to be released to the free world. They could plan actions and carry them out. But her? Oh no… not her! She was relegated to cozying up to the most despicable men on the planet. She had to put up with their crude advances, listen to their disgusting propositions and smile while they held her hand or kissed her cheek as they ran their eyes all over her body and spewed racist crap. She was sick of it!

 _When I find out who gave me this creepy assignment, I swear, I'll kill them! May they rot in hell!_

* * *

Jo lived upstairs from her club in a suite of two rooms. She woke early, as usual. Club closed at 3 a.m., books done by 3:30 most nights (when she didn't have visitors), to bed by 4 a.m. Early, on her new schedule, was 10. She gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was greeted by dark circles under her eyes.

"I don't get enough sleep," she yawned as she started the shower.

She toweled off and started the coffee. It brewed as she dressed. She flicked on Pandora from her iPhone. Soothing music began to play from the Bluetooth speaker as she popped a breakfast burrito into the microwave and sat down at her table to eat. This was her alone time, her reflective space… probably the only time she'd have all day to herself. She reached for the underground newspapers she had brought up from her office. She stared at the photos of Blair kissing another woman in Paris.

"What are you doing, Blair?" she whispered.

She examined the photos more closely. It didn't look like Blair was a casual bystander. It appeared as though she was kissing her back. Not only that, but that girl's hands were all over her: one on her rear end and the other placed provocatively under her right breast.

"Jesus, Blair," Jo sighed as she sipped her coffee. She leaned back in her chair, and unzipped her jeans. Her hand made its way beneath the waistband of her underwear. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a fantasy:

 _She stood at the window of a hotel room, gazing out at the Eifel Tower on a perfect night. The moon was full and lit clouds in a brilliant light as they slowly passed by. A breeze parted her nightshirt, leaving her naked body exposed to the city below. "Are you going to stand there all night?" a soft voice beckoned her from the bed behind. She turned slowly. Blair was naked, her perfect rear end in full view as she propped herself up on an elbow. She turned slowly, parting her legs slightly as she did so… just enough to give Jo a brief glance. "I'm waiting for you," she ever so slightly licked her upper lip. Jo moved towards the bed…_

There was a sudden pounding on her door. Jo snapped out of her fantasy with a start.

"I'm coming!" she called out as she removed her hand from between her legs. She zipped up her jeans as she made her way to the door.

"What's so important?" she snapped at George as he entered.

"ICE is going to raid the neighborhood this morning!" he blurted.

"So? We're protected," Jo was still, somewhat, in a daze.

"But the bakery isn't," he looked at her incredulously. "And the diner up the street?"

"Right, right," Jo recovered herself. "Um, get the word out to our people. We better get on this ourselves, as well."

"What's your plan?"

"We shut down every business. Hide the employees. Replace them with our own. Guard them."

"Right, Boss. Hit the All-Call?"

"You got it!" Jo nodded. "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

Jo entered her office a few minutes later carrying a bag.

"You get everyone?" she shot a look at George.

"Boots, Molly, Arnold, Willis, Andy… couldn't get a hold of Kimberley."

"Cliff and Jeff are here?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah. What's in the bag, Jo?" he asked curiously.

She unzipped the bag and pulled out two semi-automatic pistols.

"Whoa!" George's eyes grew wide.

"Insurance," Jo tossed one to him.

"You really think we're going to need these?" he asked.

"I don't want to take any chances. I've got to stay here, hide people and protect, as I can't be seen involved in any of this. You understand that, right?"

"The hostess with the most-ess," he nodded in agreement.

"Look, George," she sighed. "Jeff, Willis and Arnold are black. I just don't trust law enforcement around black people anymore."

"What you talkin' bout, Jo?" Arnold burst into the office as Jo and George quickly hid their firearms.

"Hey! You ready?" Jo shot back.

"Ready for anything, you know that!" the young man winked at her coyly.

"Then let's get on this!" Jo commanded.

* * *

Blair relaxed in her huge bed at the Carlyle. She had already received a full body massage from the same cute masseuse who had had rubbed her feet a few nights earlier. She was feeling good as she reached for her mimosa on the nightstand. Her smart phone rang. She gazed at it nonchalantly: Cecil.

"What is it, Cecil?"

"You called me to come over?" he responded.

"At ten," she protested.

"It's eleven, Blair," he complained. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for an hour!"

"Oh, really? Sorry, Cecil… massage and all."

"And _no one_ leaves their phone on during a massage?" he fumed. "Really, Blair?"

"Well, come on up then," she sighed.

She wrapped her robe around her as she headed for the door. She waited until there was a loud knock.

"Who is it?" she asked sweetly as she giggled to herself.

"You know goddamn good and well who it is! Now let me in!" he replied indignantly.

"Really, Cecil," she handed him a mimosa as he entered. "You've got to lighten up."

"While the fate of the free world hangs in the balance?" he huffed.

"The free world is fine," she led him to the couch. "It's America we've got to worry about."

"You are just the most frustrating operative!" he took a sip off his drink.

"There's that word again," Blair complained as she patted his knee. "Relax. I've got some info for you."

His eyebrows rose as he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah," she smiled ironically. "Blair Warner, the girl the underground parades around like some big-haired, vapid puppet, got some information from his majesty, the Royal Orange Anus."

"Well?" he fidgeted nervously. "Are you going to tell me?"

"It seems the NSA has set him up so that he can spy on anyone… and I mean _anyone_. He had a view of Jo's club."

"Salacious Showers?" Cecil was shocked.

"Yeah. But don't worry. He still thinks she's on his side. I just thought Jo should know. And since I'm not allowed to talk to her…"

"I'll pass the info along," he nodded.

"Also, something bigly may be going down next Friday."

"Bigly?" he questioned her.

"That's what he called it. Wants me in Washington for a distraction ceremony while his generals carry out some heinous plan."

"This is not good," Cecil shook his head.

"Probably nothing, if you think about it," Blair conjectured. "I mean, he says bigly stuff all the time: none of it true."

"My thoughts exactly," Cecil concurred. He paused briefly as he gazed at her seriously. "He didn't mention anything about Barack Obama did he?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," he waved her off. "It's just that if he didn't mention Obama, it's another indicator that he's not going to do anything. I should know."

Blair gazed at him intently.

"What _is_ it you do for him, Cecil? I mean, you're part of his White House, right?"

"I just try to keep my head down and pick up what I can," he sighed. "I can't stand being with him face-to-face. All he wants is platitudes and nonsensical briefings. I write things like: _Today, in Boise, Idaho, a woman praised President Trump for his stand in favor of the dogcatcher law._ It's ridiculous! I'm not getting the kind of stuff you are. This is very good intell, Blair. Well done!"

"Yadda, yadda," she sank back into the couch and picked up the TV remote.

"Your contributions are quite important, Blair," he tried to reassure her.

She flicked on the TV.

" _A riot has broken out in a Manhattan neighborhood between patriots and members of the Alt-Left! Shots have been fired!"_ a bubble-headed, bleached blonde newscaster spoke breathlessly. _"We have live cameras at the scene! We're going there now!"_

"Oh my God!" Blair sat bolt upright as she viewed the screen. "That's Jo's neighborhood!"


	4. We Like to Help You Learn

Jo scurried across the street, dodging bullets, bottles and scores of angry young men hollering racist epithets. Something had gone terribly wrong. ICE had left without incident. Their plan to protect the immigrant workers had been successful. When, suddenly, all hell broke loose. Her operatives had reported back and made it to the safety of her club, all but Willis. She was determined to get to him. Something was thrown that glanced her forehead. She slumped against the wall of the bakery, slightly dazed, as blood trickled down her face.

"Willis," she roused herself.

She stumbled to the door.

"Willis!" she called out.

"Jo?" he called back. "Get over here!"

He was crouched behind the counter. Jo fumbled her way over to him.

"What happened?" she collapsed beside him.

"I dunno', Jo," he spoke excitedly. "ICE left, the cops came in, I offered one a cannoli and he pulled a gun on me!"

"You pointed a cannoli at a cop?"

"Well, yeah. You know cops like donuts and all, but a cannoli was the best I could come up with here. Next thing I know, he says he's feeling threatened and pulls his gun! Well, I duck behind this counter so fast it was like I was never here! Then everything goes ballistic, Jo! What happened?"

"I think Trump's jackboots showed up."

"Jack what?"

"White Supremacists, Nazis," Jo clarified.

"Why would they start trouble here?" he questioned.

"There's no explaining their behavior, Willis," she winced as she touched her head.

"Let me get you some ice for that," he offered as he began to rise.

"No!" she pulled him back down. "It's not safe."

"Well, what we gonna' do now?" he questioned. "The door to the back room is locked. I already checked. We're trapped."

"Wait it out," she advised.

"What if they come in here again?" he asked.

Jo lifted her shirt to reveal a semi-automatic pistol tucked into her jeans.

"No way, Jo! We can't shoot people!"

"We can if they're gonna' shoot us first!" she fired back.

"That's not what we're all about," he offered as he placed a napkin on her bleeding forehead.

"Anyway…" she sighed.

"Anyway, how's the club?" he dabbed her wound.

"Are you kidding me? There's a police line in front of the club. It's their hangout!"

"How'd you get by them to get over here?"

She tilted her head and gave him a crooked grin.

"Told them I needed a cannoli."

* * *

"Oh my God!" Blair cried out as she watched the riot on television. "I've got to get down there!"

"And do what, Blair?" Cecil questioned.

"I, um, don't know," Blair put her hand to her mouth with worry. "Help Jo?"

"There's nothing you can do, Blair," he advised. "Just sit tight. I'll see what I can find out."

He texted someone on his cell phone.

"Well?" Blair looked at him expectantly.

"Give it some time, Blair. I'm sure Jo is fine. She is perceived by the police as a friend, remember?"

"Yeah, but, what if she got hurt or something? Without her knowing that we're on the same side? I just couldn't take that, Cecil!"

"None of this is easy for any of us," he reminded.

His phone chirped. He read the message.

"No fatalities. The police have it under control," he reported.

" _This_ is under control?" Blair eyed the television incredulously.

"They have a lot of fire-power," he assured.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she glared at him.

"I don't know what you think you could do," he shook his head. "Aside from blow your cover."

"Oh God, I am so _sick_ of my _cover_!" she complained. "Whose bright idea was it to isolate me from my friends anyway, huh?"

"I don't know, Blair," he sighed. "They probably just want you to be clean, above reproach, as far as the government is concerned."

"Meaning, they don't really trust me," she shot back.

"It's possible that isolating you from your friends guarantees that there will be no unforeseen slip-ups," he nodded.

"Meaning that they, whoever _they_ are, don't really trust me!" she reiterated.

"Let's look at this logically, Blair. Obviously, you cannot be seen associating with your friends Natalie Green or Dorothy Ramsey."

"Oh no! The Jewish woman and the black woman?" Blair rolled her eyes in mock horror. " _Obviously_ not!"

"I know," he sympathized. "It _is_ repugnant."

"Still doesn't explain Jo," Blair pointed out. "She's supposed to be on the fascists' side, just like me."

"I just don't think they want you involved in that. Her role is quite different from yours. No need to muddle things up with past relationships."

"Muddle things up?" Blair was outraged. "She could be shot or injured or…"

"I'm going to find out where Jo is. I won't leave until we both know," he promised.

* * *

Natalie and Rachel sat at a small table in their prison barracks after their morning work duties were completed. They had acquired a set of playing cards in a trade for Lime Jell-O.

"What's it going to take, Rachel, to repair our country?" Nat inquired.

"It's a complex situation, Nat," Rachel shook her head. "There is a lot of damage to be undone."

"How do you figure it?" Nat asked.

"Got a five?" Rachel responded.

"Go fish," Natalie returned.

"It's more complicated than just the Russian interference in our democratic process," Rachel viewed her cards. "Congressional Districts have been gerrymandered in several states."

"Yeah, that does suck," Nat agreed. "Got a three?"

"Go fish," Rachel replied. "Beyond that, is the issue of voter suppression. Minorities have been purged from the voting roles in many districts. And after all is said and done, there is always the issue of voter apathy. People are just not participating in our democracy. Got a nine?"

"Damn," Natalie handed over her card.

"So," Rachel continued, "we are looking at a multi-tiered problem, as far as voting is concerned. We have minority rule, not majority rule, unless you count majority rule as those who actually vote. Got a king?"

"Go fish," Nat replied. "The issue of voter apathy _is_ huge. Got a queen?"

"Add to that the voter machine hacking… and people just don't trust the process anymore," Rachel handed over her queen.

"Agreed," Nat sighed. "So how do we fix this?"

"At this point?" Rachel shrugged.

"Got a seven?" Nat asked.

"We are under a fascist regime. He has ceded all military decisions to the Pentagon, which really doesn't seem to matter at this point, as he is assembling his own private, for profit army. Go fish."

"So… you don't have a seven?" Natalie grinned.

"Nope. But at sixes and sevens seems to be where we find ourselves."

"He's going to call off elections anyway, you know that, right?" Nat gave her a look.

"Why should he? He's already got the system rigged in his favor," Rachel countered.

"Most people probably wouldn't notice anyway," Natalie sighed.

"That's a sad statement. I think maybe our system of government has played itself out. I hope folks are waking up."

"Do you think he's going to start up a SS kind of thing like Hitler?" Nat queried.

"I wish people would quit comparing him to Hitler," Rachel protested. "He's no where near that smart! No. He's going to set up police departments as his enforcement arm domestically. He's already, basically, done that: appealing to their basest instincts, most self-serving interests, and allowing the military to arm them to the teeth."

"So… no concentration camps?"

"Whadda' call this?" Rachel waved her arm at their surroundings. "Since the Fake News Sedition Act of 2017, we are pretty much interred in a concentration camp for reporters."

"I meant death camps and like that," Natalie clarified.

"Who knows?" her friend raised her eyebrows.

"I just know Jo's going to get us out of here! She's amazing, Rachel, a true fighter!" she enthused. "A hero!"

"I can't wait to meet her," Rachel gave her a smile. "You've always spoken so highly of her."

"George is amazing, too. He's smart and clever and _so_ handsome, Rachel!"

"Well, I'll take your word on that, Nat," Rachel laughed. "But, not my type, to be sure."

"Oh, yeah, right. Well, Jo's not too bad looking, either. You two might hit it off!" Nat gave her a huge grin with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'm spoken for," Rachel smiled back. "But, thanks anyway."

"I wonder what's going on out there? I wonder what the resistance is up to?"

"We haven't had any word for days," Rachel agreed.

"Probably nothing going on right now," Natalie shrugged as she perused her cards.

"Yeah, I think it's mostly cyber-warfare at this point. Not much action."

"Got a six?"

"Go fish."

* * *

A rock came flying through the window of the bakery showering Jo and Willis with glass.

"Jo! Willis!" a loud voice called to them from within the building.

"George?" Jo called back.

"C'mon! Let's get out of here!" he made his way over to them.

"We're kinda' pinned down, George!" she was still shaking glass from her hair.

"I found a safe way out," he reported.

"Hey, George," Willis smiled.

"Hey, Willis," George grabbed for both their arms, helping them up. "We're going through the roof!"

"I like the sound of that!" Willis said.

"I don't!" Jo eyed them both.

"You wanna' stay here?" Willis questioned.

"No," Jo sighed. "Lead on, George."

"Keep your head down," he commanded.

"Why didn't _I_ think of that?" she mumbled.

"We gotta' jump up there," he pointed to a trap door in the ceiling that was hanging open.

"Easy!" Willis took a running jump and caught the edge of the opening. He pulled himself up. "C'mon, Jo!"

"Um?"

"I'll give you a leg up," George winked at her.

Willis caught Jo's arms and pulled her up. George followed. Once they had access to the stairs at the back of the building, they made their way up to the roof. They ran across until they were at the edge.

"What now?" Jo asked.

"We gotta' jump," George informed.

"This just keeps getting better and better," she complained.

"It's like three feet," Willis shrugged.

"With a fifty foot drop!" she eyed him.

"You can do it, Jo!" Willis slapped her back.

"Ow!" she placed her hand to her still aching head.

"Oops, sorry," he shrugged apologetically.

"Oh my God, Jo!" George noticed the blood running down her face. "What happened?"

"I dunno'," Jo replied. "Guess I got hit by something."

"You don't look right," he examined her eyes. "Could have a concussion. Answer this: who's the President of the United States?"

"Don't remind me, George," she complained.

"She sounds clear enough to me," Willis offered.

"Her eyes aren't right, Willis. She can't jump."

"Well, I gotta' go," he insisted. "My little brother's over there."

"He's safe," Jo slunk down against the wall on the building's roof. "He's in the club."

"He'll be worried," he countered.

"He's a grown-ass man, damn it, Willis. He's fine!" Jo was adamant.

"I don't think anyone has ever called him _grown-ass_ before, Jo. He'll appreciate that. But, I gotta' go," Willis replied. "So, what's the plan here, George?"

"Jump to the other roof, take the fire escape down on the other side, go through the side door at Goldman's Market. They'll let you in. Then go through the alley to the street. Cross the street, make your way to the alley on the other side and enter the club from the back."

"And don't pull any cannoli's on a cop!" Jo added.

"Good advise!" Willis smiled as he took a running jump and leapt across the buildings.

"There he goes," Jo waved as she gave George an ironic grin. "And to think, I came to save him."

He sat down beside her.

"He'll be alright," he put his arm around her.

"I know that," she nudged him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

He discreetly reached for his cell phone and began texting.

* * *

Blair had decided to call the masseuse back. She was _awfully_ cute and lord knows it was the closest thing she was going to get to any physical comfort now that she was back home in New York. Maybe a full-body massage this time: something to _really_ take her away while she waited for news on Jo. What else could she do? Cecil was right. If she went down to where the action was happening, she probably wouldn't find Jo anyway. And if she did find Jo, what would she say or do? Jo hated her now, just like the rest of her friends. She tried not to hate herself as the young woman dug hard into her shoulders. Her role in all of this was dirty, she felt. She was fake to people to get information. She allowed them to think she was someone she was not. She had left a beautiful woman in Paris standing on the street without explanation. Her life sucked.

"Oohh!" she moaned as the masseuse continued to work on her shoulders and neck.

"You're so tense today," the young woman noticed. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No. Are you kidding me? This feels great. I should put you on retainer."

"Actually, the hotel has put me on standby for you."

"Meaning?"

"You're my only client for as long as you're here."

"I like that," Blair sighed. "I should just hire you."

"Really?"

"No, not really. What's your name?"

"Theresa!" the young woman said excitedly.

"Well, Theresa, don't ever let a rich person like me try to co-opt you into something that might not be in your best interest just because I have money."

"Um, okay," Theresa was puzzled.

"I mean, you're good. I could set you up in your own business, if you want. So you could make your own way in the world, be your own boss."

"Really?"

"Yes," Blair laughed a little. "Really. But only if that's what you want."

"I've thought about it a lot," she responded.

"We'll talk later," Blair promised as she relaxed into Theresa's skilled hands.

Her phone vibrated. She gave it a quick glance: a text from Ivanka. She ignored it as the masseuse made her way down her back. Her phone vibrated again: a text from Eric. She had only left her phone on vibrate for news about Jo. She reached over to turn it off when she received a third text: from Don, Jr.

"What the hell?" she complained out loud as the young woman started massaging her ass.

"I'm sorry," Theresa was apologetic as she quickly removed her hands. "I thought you wanted a full body, deep tissue massage."

"I did," Blair huffed.

"I, um…" the young woman seemed confused.

"I do," Blair quickly changed her tone. "That comment wasn't meant for you. The foot massage you gave me this morning was wonderful, by the way. You're the best. Here, let me turn off my phone completely."

 _This is why people don't leave their phones on while getting a massage!_

As she reached for her phone, another text came through: _"Jo alright. Don't worry."_

It was George. She heard Cecil's phone chirp in the other room simultaneously.

"Cecil!" she called out. "Get in here!"

"What is it, Blair?" Cecil ran into the bedroom of the suite alarmed: only to find her relaxed upon a massage table naked.

"Oh my goodness," he covered his eyes.

"I, uh…" the young masseuse stood frozen.

"I got a text at the exact same moment as you!" Blair wrapped herself in the luxuriously soft blanket Theresa had provided. She walked towards him with purpose. "That means we're being texted by the exact same person, I'm guessing: George!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Blair," Cecil complained. He nodded towards the young woman standing behind her. "Besides, we're _not_ alone!"

"I, uh…" Theresa hesitated as she eyed them both.

"Oh," Blair glanced at her. "I'm sorry, Theresa. Hold on."

She walked over to the bed and retrieved her purse. She grabbed out a huge wad of cash and stuffed it into her hands.

"Tips are not necessary, Ms. Warner. Massage service is already covered as part of your stay."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're an excellent masseuse and I want to reward you."

"Thank you," she smiled nervously. "I'll just collect my things then…"

"And be off, thank you," Cecil interrupted.

"No need to be rude, Cecil," Blair eyed him as she made her way into the bathroom to grab her robe. She returned to see Theresa quickly making her way out the door. "So? George?"

"Yes, Blair, George," he replied.

"So," she walked out to the living room. "George is a common contact."

"It would seem so," Cecil followed her. "Jo's all right, apparently. Must be a relief to you."

"It is," she poured herself a drink. Truth be told, she was _immensely_ relieved. Whatever had happened between them in the past, she could never let go of her attachment to Jo. She was such a _huge_ influence in her life. That Jo didn't know about her? That they were actually working towards the same end… really bothered her: drove her crazy! But, Cecil, didn't need to know any of this.

"George is what I want to talk about. He was my contact in Paris."

"He's a contact of mine, as well, obviously," Cecil affirmed.

"Do you think he's running this thing?"

"The Resistance?" Cecil snorted. "Hardly!"

"Who then?" Blair eyed him intently.

"Your father, for all I know," he shrugged.

"No," she laughed. "Daddy's not behind this. Not his style. He supports it, yeah. But he's not in charge here."

"What difference does it make, Blair?"

"Just want to know, is all," she sat beside him.

"I wish I could tell you," he sighed.

"Meanwhile Qusay and Uday texted me."

"Who?" he was truly confused.

"Thing One and Thing Two: Trump's idiotic spawn?"

"Aah, a Saddam Hussein reference combined with a Dr. Seuss reference!" Cecil nodded. "It's sometimes difficult for me to keep up with your cultural witticisms, Blair."

"The Crown Princess texted me, as well."

"Ivanka?"

"Who else?" she sniffed.

"What did they want?" he asked excitedly.

"They all want a get-together in the Oval Office on Friday before my Medal Ceremony."

"This could be huge, Blair! Are you kidding me?" Cecil looked at her wide-eyed.

"There is nothing huge about them except for how their father pronounces the word," she shook her head.

"No! I mean, you'll be in the Oval Office. You could gather valuable information there!"

"There's no _valuable_ information in the Oval Office anymore, Cecil," she eyed him incredulously. "Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Well," he cleared his throat. "You never know."

"I'll keep my eyes open, okay? Just for you!" she stated reassuringly.

"Thanks, Blair," he nodded.

"No. Thank you," she patted his knee.

"For what?" he gazed at her.

"For putting up with me," she grinned. "I know I'm not easy, sometimes."

"You're quite alright, Blair," he reassured. "I have no complaints."

"Thanks again, Cecil."

"I do have a request, however," he adjusted his glasses.

"What's that?"

"Just once, when I come to see you," he coughed a little, "Could you please be wearing some clothes?"

"Okay," she laughed out loud. "I guess I have been a little casual around you."

* * *

"What's going on down there, George?" Jo asked.

"It's starting to break up, I think," he reported as he looked down at the street. He sat back down beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she sighed. "What do you think happened today?"

"The police versus the Nazi's? Pure theatre," he shook his head.

"So the police come out looking like good guys?"

"That would be my guess," he agreed. "Meanwhile, they get to bust up an ethnic neighborhood. Win-win for their side."

"So, George," she grinned as she shook her head, "You really scaled a fire escape, took a death-defying leap across buildings, ran down four flights of stairs and figured out a way to break into the bakery all to save me?"

"Actually, Jo, I have a huge crush on Willis. Didn't I ever tell you that?" he winked.

"That's what I figured," she nudged him and laughed. "But, we have to talk."

"Seriously, Jo?"

"Boots saw you talking to Men in Black outside the club. What's the story there, George? It's time we laid all our cards on the table."

"Boots, huh…"

"Yep. Don't underestimate her. It's a mistake many have made."

"Okay. Cards on the table: I was a C.I.A. operative in the Middle East. You may have guessed that."

"Explains all your superhero powers," she smiled.

"Well, those people don't let you go easily."

"Are you still working for them, George?"

"No! No way! I'm working for you, for the Resistance. There's a lot of the Intelligence Community involved in the Resistance, by the way."

"Boots said they wanted you to _handle_ me."

"There is a strain of the C.I.A. who still want to control me. I tell them what they need to hear."

"Is there a CIA target on my back, George?"

"Not so long as I'm around. And, Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"The guy who scaled a fire escape, took a death-defying leap across buildings, ran down four flights of stairs and figured out a way to break into the bakery did it for you, because… I'm completely behind you. Do you believe me?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to be hearing that from some other folks pretty soon," she mentioned.

"The part about leaping tall buildings in a single bound or the _do you believe me_ part?" he gave her his most charming smile.

"The _do you believe me_ part," she laughed.

They looked each other in the eyes.

"Blair," they said unison.

"So you knew?" he questioned her. "You seemed so hateful of her!"

"Hey, it was the role I was supposed to play!" she defended herself. " _Act like you hate Blair. Don't let anyone know!_ "

"I bought it!" he nodded. "You're quite the actress!"

"Not really. I just pulled on old emotions, past interactions."

"I was told not to tell you that she was an operative," he reflected. "Like you couldn't be trusted with the information. But, it was hard when I saw how you seemed to hate her so much."

"As if I could never hate Blair, George."

"You still love her, huh?"

"That's neither here nor there," Jo mused. "When she finds out that I was the one who recommended she be assigned the job she's doing…"

"She'll understand."

"Uh… no she won't" Jo lifted her eyebrows. "I mean, I knew she was sympathetic, vulnerable even, because of what happened between Trump and her father. I made a calculated decision."

"It's working out pretty well," he mused. "She's good at what she's doing."

"And hates every minute of it, I guarantee you. What am I going to say to her? I did it for the good of The Cause? _Do you believe me?"_

"It's a tough one, Jo," he put his arm around her.

* * *

"You could have a slight concussion," Cliff flashed a light into Jo's eyes as she sat in the comfort of her office. "Tell me, who is the President of the United States?"

"Why are people always asking me that to see if I'm okay? Thinking about _that_ is almost guaranteed to give me a concussion, if I don't already have one!"

"Jo?" George drew out her name. "Be good."

"I'm putting you on limited duty," Cliff continued.

"No way, Cliff! I run this place! Everyone expects Jo when they come in here and that's just what they're going to get."

"Not for a couple of days!" Cliff tossed his equipment into his bag and closed it resolutely.

"Who do you think you are?" she protested.

"Your doctor," he eyed her.

"Listen to the man," George advised. "We'll cover for you."

" _Who'll_ cover for me?" Jo was defensive.

"I will!" Boots entered the room excitedly. She had been listening at the door. "I'm really good with people!"

"There's more to it than glad-handing Trump's minions," Jo protested.

"Like what?" Boots was resolute.

"Well, there's knowing what each one prefers, for one thing. Not all treasonous sycophants have the same perverse fetishes, ya' know!"

"I think I can handle it for a day or two," Boots nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, Jo. Don't sell her short," George winked.

"Jesus, we have this neighborhood to clean up on top of everything else," Jo complained.

"I've already assembled a crew," George informed. "We begin tomorrow!"

"You're just starting to piss me off now. You know that?" Jo glared at him.

"Meanwhile, you're on limited duty for three days," Cliff affirmed.

George threw his arm around Cliff and glared at Jo.

"Fuckers!" she cursed at them.

* * *

It was Friday. Blair had been dreading this day: her Medal of Freedom Day in Washington, D.C. She was waiting in the Oval Office by herself, having been ushered in by some Trump lackeys. _Might as well look around_ , she thought to herself. She walked around to the President's desk and pulled out a drawer. There was a notebook with notes scribbled. She perused them casually:

 _Notes to self…_

 _#1: Always make sure big tie covers belly._

 _#2: Hairspray is not helpful on Marine One Helicopter._

 _#3: No more rides on Marine One._

 _#4: Undo everything Barack Obama has done._

 _#5: Bomb North Korea. No. California. No. North Korea._

 _#6: The Statue of Liberty thing. Get rid of it._

"This guy's pitiful," Blair whispered to herself as she closed the desk drawer.

"Blair!" Eric Trump greeted her enthusiastically as he rushed over to shake her hand. "So nice to meet you!"

Don Jr. followed.

"Yes! So nice to finally meet you!" he shook her hand with equal enthusiasm.

Blair was somewhat taken aback by their bold zeal. She eyed them skeptically.

"We are incredibly impressive at first glance," Eric commented. "But, if you think we're waxworks, you ought to pay, you know… not just stand there and gawk at us."

"Contrariwise, if you think were alive you ought to speak to us," Junior pointed out.

They both looked at each other.

"That's logic!" they said together.

The two brothers grinned. They looked exactly like a couple of idiotic schoolboys to Blair.

"I always feel so powerful when I walk in here," Eric began a little dance.

"Don't do that," Junior chastised him. "You look undignified. Watch me."

He began his own little dance. Blair was more than just a little disconcerted by this display of, well, giddiness.

"That looks like the Mulberry Bush Dance," Eric laughed.

"Fine then," Junior took Blair's hands.

" _Here we go round the mulberry bush!"_ he began to sing.

"Stop that!" Blair complained.

He stopped suddenly.

"Four times round is enough for one dance anyway," Junior panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun.

There was a rather awkward pause, as Blair didn't know how to begin a conversation with someone she had just been dancing around the mulberry bush with. It would never do to say: _Your father is a douche bag and so are both of you_ , she thought to herself. Although, in truth, that _was_ what she wanted to say.

"You guys are totally weird," she managed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to do a bush dance with a woman you've just met?"

They stared at her blankly. There was another awkward pause.

"I thought Ivanka was joining us," Blair finally managed.

"The time has come," Eric approached her. "To speak of many things."

"Of shoes and ships and hedge fund risk and how to make Dad king!" Junior approached her, as well.

"I've got news for you boys," Blair stood her ground. "The sea _is_ boiling hot and pigs _do_ have wings! Thanks to your father's policies!"

"Flying pigs, Bro," Eric eyed Junior.

"Excellent!"

They fist bumped.

"Didn't Dad say to grab what we wanted?" Eric asked his brother.

"By the pussy," Junior nodded idiotically as he replied.

" _Where is Ivanka?_ " Blair demanded.

"Oh, Blair, there you are!" a voice boomed out as an orange person with an insane yellow hairdo entered the Oval Office. Blair thought she would never be happy to see Trump, but if it meant getting her away from his creepy-ass sons? "Ivanka's outside waiting for us! C'mon! This ceremony is going to be HUGE! The best ceremony ever! Believe me!"

* * *

 _Smoke, flames and rapid fire from automatic weapons surrounded Jo. She hid behind a broken wall as she gripped her pistol so hard that her knuckles turned white. She held it up to her ear in anticipation. More shots were fired._

" _Oh God! Oh God!" she cried out._

 _A young man ran through the miasma and stopped in front of her where she crouched._

" _Who are you?" he yelled._

" _Who are you?" she yelled back._

 _He pointed his weapon at her. She pulled the trigger of her gun and fired several shots. He dropped to the ground. She jumped up and watched as the light left his eyes and he faded into oblivion. His blood flowed around her feet, soaking her shoes in a sticky red. She flipped open his jacket with her gun. There was a police badge clipped to his pocket._

" _What have I done?" she screamed as she looked up to the sky. "What have I done?!"_

"Jo, wake up," Tootie shook her shoulder.

"Huh?" Jo was roused from her dream. She sat bolt upright on her couch.

"I shot a cop!" she blurted out.

"No you didn't," her friend tried to calm her as she sat down beside her. "It was a dream."

"It was a nightmare! I had to kill someone," Jo reported breathlessly. "It was horrible."

"God forbid it comes to that," Tootie said as she and Jeff reclined on the couch.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jo was still slightly confused.

"You said we could watch _Days of Our Lives_ with you, remember?" Tootie informed.

"I _have_ to find out if Stefano is really dead!" Jeff put his arm around Tootie.

"He's really dead because the actor playing him died," Jo informed.

"Damn, Girl! Why'd you have to tell me that?" Jeff complained.

"Let's just watch," Jo pulled out the remote control. She turned on the T.V.

" _Breaking News!"_ a television talking head reported excitedly. _"Our leader, President Trump, is about to give the Medal of Freedom Award to America's Sweetheart: Blair Warner!"_

"Are you kidding me?" Tootie complained. "They're preempting _Days of Our Lives_ for this?"

"Might be amusing," Jo conjectured.

"Oh my God, Jo!" Tootie exclaimed. "Look! He's holding her hand!"

"She has to be hating that," Jo shook her head.

"What makes you say that?" Tootie eyed her curiously.

"Just a guess," Jo shrugged.

"Oh my goodness, Jo! He kissed her cheek!" Tootie laughed out loud.

"Ooh, she flinched! Did you guys see that?" Jeff laughed. "I _know_ she's hating that!"

Tootie and Jo looked at him curiously.

"How do you know that?" his girlfriend questioned.

"You saw the photos from Paris," he eyed them back. "She likes girls now and that French girl was _fine_."

"Watch yourself," Tootie nudged him.

"Besides, we don't _really_ know what Blair was doing in Paris," Jo said.

"All I'm saying is that _if_ Blair likes girls now, that woman in Paris was hot. She can't possibly like an old perve like Trump pecking her on the cheek," Jeff conjectured.

"It's a big _if_ ," Jo pointed out.

"You should know," Tootie shrugged.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" The comment irritated Jo. It could mean so many different things!

"I only meant that no one knows Blair like you," there was another shrug.

"What are you implying?" Jo glared at her friend.

"I'm not _implying_ anything," Tootie glared back. "Just stating a fact."

"Let's, uh, dial this back a notch," Jeff tried to intervene.

"No, Babe," Tootie silenced him. "If she knows something about Blair, I want to know what it is. And she _always_ knows something about Blair, believe me!"

"Well excuse me, Mr. Trump," Jo barked at her.

"I notice you're not denying it," Tootie was smug.

"Whatever I _do_ or _do not_ know about Blair is none of your business," Jo insisted.

"That means you know something," Tootie was equally as adamant. "Something you don't want us to know!"

"Enough already!" Jeff interrupted. "Blair is hundreds of miles from here! Let's talk about something that really matters!"

"Like what?" they both snapped at him.

"Like when you coming back to work, Jo? Boots is driving me crazy! You know she shows up in a top hat, tails, shiny shorts and dances something called the Soft Shoe with a cane every night, don't you? She's like a demented Michael Jackson impersonator. It's bad enough I gotta' put up with a dead white guy with an arrow through his head, but this? I'm about to go mental working down there every night!"

Tootie and Jo looked at each other and laughed.

"Yeah, no worries," Jo smiled as she shook her head. "I'm back on duty tonight. Poor Boots."

Just then a phone rang. It was the "burner" phone.

"I've got to get that guys," Jo said.

"Go ahead," Tootie nodded.

"Um, no. In private," she gave them an apologetic look.

"That's okay, Jo," Jeff helped his girlfriend up. "The soap's preempted anyway."

"Glad you're feeling better, Jo," Tootie gave her a hug as she exited.

"Likewise," Jo hugged her back.

* * *

"Why'd you go after Jo like that?" Jeff demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I just think she knows more than she's saying, is all."

"Of course she does, Babe. She's kinda' the boss of this whole operation, in case you haven't noticed."

"But Blair was my friend, too, Jeff. And I told her off pretty good on social media. I severed our relationship. If something's going on, I deserve to know!"

"What makes you think something is going on?" he asked.

"It was that photo in the paper from Paris. It made me suspicious. Jo and Blair were always so close. And Jeff," she gave him a look, "I mean close."

"You mean?"

"Yeah. That's what I mean," she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

"Jo and Blair? But…"

"It was just talk, but that picture triggered my memory. They had a big falling out after college. When I saw Blair kissing that woman in Paris, I started putting things together. I should've seen it the whole time," she shook her head. "I need to know what's going on, Jeff."

"You're making a lot of assumptions here," he shook his head. "And, anyways, you shouldn't have been so mean to Jo like that."

"Excuse me?" her eyes went wide. "She's not _my_ boss!"

"No. She just risked her life breaking you out of a Trump prison and saved _your_ life in the process," he reminded.

"Yeah, you're right," Tootie looked down remorsefully. "I'll apologize."

"And, Babe?" Jeff lifted her chin.

"Jo _is_ the boss… of everyone," he smiled sweetly.

* * *

As soon as Tootie and Jeff had left, Jo grabbed the phone.

"Hello? I wasn't expecting to hear from you today."

She sat down at her table.

"Yes, I'm much better," she reached for a pen and paper. "Thank you. I feel the same way."

She tapped the pen nervously.

"Yes. I understand," she nodded.

She quickly began scribbling information on her pad.

"I'll get on it right away," she continued writing.

"Yes, Ma'am."


	5. All You See Are Sympathetic Eyes

Cecil entered Blair's hotel suite at the Carlyle. For once, to his relief, she was fully clothed.

"How'd it go on Friday?" he asked her.

"Oh my God, Cecil," Blair shook her head. "It was horrible. Trump's sons are as creepy as he is!"

"I hardly think we could've expected anything different," he pointed out. "Were you able to glean any valuable information?"

"Oh, Cecil, you are such a treasure!" Blair gave him an endearing smile as she led him to the couch. "Glean?"

"I suppose I'm an old fashioned nerd by your standards," he adjusted his glasses as she offered him tea.

"Nerd? The lifeguard who saved my grandfather's life? No way!"

"That was many years ago, Blair. I'm not the strapping, young buck who dived off that pier in 1965!"

"But every bit the dashing, distinguished spy!"

"Distinguished… I'll take," he laughed as he accepted a scone. "But dashing? I'm 70 years old. Those days are gone."

"Don't sell yourself short, Cecil. Trump's older than you and acts like a horny teenager!"

"Not an example I care to follow," he took a sip of his tea.

"What I _gleaned_ is that Trump wants to bomb North Korea… or California. Seems to be having trouble making up his mind. But, my guess? Both."

"That's not exactly a surprise," he nodded.

"Nope," Blair admitted. "But what _is_ a surprise is that he also has the Statue of Liberty in his crosshairs."

"He what?" Cecil spit out his tea.

"Yeah. At first I thought he wanted to get rid of the whole statue. But I cornered Ivanka at the reception after the ceremony and casually brought up the subject. It turns out that they love the actual statue, it representing America and all. They just want to get rid of the plaque on the pedestal by Emma Lazarus. You know: _Give me your tired, your poor, your huddle masses yearning to breathe free_ …"

" _The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door,"_ he finished the poem for her. "It's a beautiful expression of what America is all about!"

"Yeah, well, they want to get rid of it. Too immigrant friendly or some such," she sighed. "They claim that because it was placed there 20 years after the unveiling of the statue, that it really doesn't belong there at all."

"Will this madness ever end?" Cecil became upset. "The Statue of Liberty was a gift from France to commemorate both the alliance of the United States and France during the American Revolution and the abolition of slavery in the U.S. after the Civil War! Do Trump's white supremacists friends even know that?"

"That would involve a knowledge of actually history," Blair pointed out. "I don't think most of them get beyond _Mein Kampf_ … if they can even read. But, if they did know, I'm sure they'd want the whole statue removed as recompense for the removal of Confederate statues in the South."

"I just can't believe what's happened to our country," Cecil appeared defeated and old. "It's not the country I grew up in nor the one your father grew up in."

"Not the country I grew up in either," Blair added as she gently took his hand.

"I'm sorry, Blair. I just never thought this would happen… could happen."

"No one did, Cecil."

"Any word on _when_ they plan on removing the plaque?" he asked her.

"Can't be sure, but I think maybe August 9th?"

"That's so soon! Why then?" he queried.

"Something about Jesse Owens and the 1936 Olympics. Retake the race? I dunno'. I just heard things here or there."

"I just can't believe this, Blair. Jesse Owens was an American hero! Of all the treasonous things!"

"You'll pass this along?" Blair asked.

"Of course! Did you find out anything else?"

"Like _when_ he's going to bomb California? No."

"Too bad," he sighed. "But great intell, as usual, Blair. Job well done!"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Blair jumped up from the couch. "I procured something."

Cecil sat in anticipation as she ran into the bedroom. She returned holding something in her hand.

"What is it?" he asked her expectantly.

"I managed to flirt with a couple of Trump's private security guards and lift their event passes. Don't know if it will help," she handed the passes to him.

His eyes went wide.

"Blair, these are not event passes, they're security passes! However did you manage to get these?"

"I just flirted, Ivanka was dancing, they were distracted…" Blair shrugged.

"One male, one female," Cecil noticed. "You got one from the woman as well as the man? But…"

"Cecil?" she lifted her eyebrows. "When I choose to be charming and flirtatious…"

"Gender doesn't matter," he smiled as he nodded. He examined the badges more closely. "I think there's a computer chip of some sort embedded. These may come in _very_ handy, Blair!"

"Good. I didn't know if they were worth anything. I just did it because I could. I mean, everything and everybody there was pissing me off! It was nauseating."

"Great work again, Blair. You are really turning out to be quite the asset! Your father would be proud!"

"Anything for _The Cause_ ," Blair rolled her eyes as she relaxed back into the couch and sipped her tea.

* * *

Jo was back to her usual hosting duties at the club. They were expecting a couple of V.I.P.'s this evening: the leader of Congress and the Police Commissioner. The Congressman they had nicknamed "Twinkie" because he looked really sweet on the outside, but underneath was something really bad for you. The Police Commissioner they had nicknamed "Fat Ass" because he was fat and an ass. The mayor had appointed him after the mayor had been appointed by Trump after the city had its name changed. He was an obese pig. Jo detested him.

On the other hand, she didn't really mind Twinkie that much. He rarely visited Salacious Showers, as he was somewhat of a straight arrow: didn't drink much, stayed in shape. He was much preferable to Mumbles, with his lack of lips and a chin and creepy, leering nature. Twinkie never tried to grab the dancers. He wasn't rude to the servers. It was so odd that under such a pleasant exterior lurked such a hateful man. He was responsible for robbing senior citizens of Medicare and average working class people of Social Security. Yet, he viewed himself as a religious man. Seems God favored him or why else would he have such abundance in his life? At least that was his thinking, she guessed. She could never understand people who claimed to be Christian and, yet, knowingly wronged others. How did one become so bereft of empathy? But still, he was preferable to Mumbles or the mayor, with his horrible, rotten smile.

Jo leaned against the bar and surveyed the club. The usual cast of characters had arrived: policemen, local politicians, underwear models looking for a sugar daddy. And an odd thing had happened since the neighborhood "riot" a week ago: trendy people started showing up. There were a few celebrities from the world of entertainment as well as some well-known socialites.

" _Rich people,"_ Jo thought to herself. _"I'll never understand them. The next thing you know, Blair will be showing up."_

 _That_ was a dangerous thought! The last thing she needed was for Blair to walk in here! What in the hell would she do then?

"Boss," a voice spoke to her from behind the bar.

"Oh, hey, what's up, George?"

"You looked a million miles away," he noted.

"Yeah. Just thinking how weird it is that the club has become _more_ popular since the bad publicity last week."

"Rich folks," he shook his head. "I'll never understand them."

Jo laughed a little.

"So we got a couple heavy hitters due in tonight," Jo turned to face him.

"Word is, from my Intelligence Community sources, that both Mumbles and Twinkie are on the outs with the Trumpsters," George spoke close to her face so as not to be overheard.

"I could care less. All are welcome at Salacious Showers," she gave him a smile. "Besides, I have important business with Fat Ass tonight."

"Speak of the devil," George nodded towards the door as the Commissioner entered.

"Commissioner!" Jo greeted him graciously as she shook his hand and patted him on the back. "I have your regular table ready."

"Thank you, Jo," he smiled as he replied. "I'm glad to see your club wasn't damaged in the unfortunate incident last week."

"Thanks to your boys in blue!" she stated enthusiastically as she led him to his table.

"The least we could do for a friend of the NYPD," he breathed out with difficulty as he tried to squeeze himself into a chair behind the table.

His statement bothered Jo. Yeah. She _was_ a friend to the NYPD, wasn't she? There had to be good, honest cops left: guys and gals who had joined the force to protect and serve the community. She didn't like painting everyone with the same broad brush. They weren't _all_ bad cops. But a racist element seemed to be allowed to run unchecked these days. It must've been hell to be a good, well-meaning person amongst the domestic enforcement arm of a fascist regime. And that is what the police had become: the homeland security branch of the military, working in collusion with the government against the people. Ah, what the heck? Hadn't the cops always sided with the management against unions going back to forever? Nothing new, she guessed. She shook it off. She had a role to play.

"The usual, Commissioner?" her fake smile pained her face.

"Thank you, Jo!" he winked at her.

"Molly!" she called her server over. "Eggermeister for the Commissioner and champagne for his entourage. All on the house!"

"Eggermeister?" Molly questioned her.

"George knows what it is," she eyed her reproachfully. "Just go tell him I said to keep this table's drinks flowing."

Eggermeister was a drink so disgusting that there was no need to spike it with urine: pickled eggs soaked in Jagermeister.

"About the unfortunate incident last week," Jo squeezed in beside him. "The building next door was badly damaged."

"It's been empty since we drove those Arabs out," he wheezed.

"And I've been trying to buy it ever since," Jo explained. "You see, I figure I could do a huge public service by turning that place into a liquor wholesale house. But, I've been held up in red tape and such downtown…"

"Say no more," his eyes lit up as Molly returned with his drink. "I'll pull some strings at City Hall."

"Thanks, Mr. Commissioner!" Jo gave her most charming smile. "I knew I could count on you!"

"Um, Jo?" Molly interrupted. "George needs you."

Jo made a polite exit.

"Twinkie's here," George informed her as he nodded his head towards the end of the bar.

"Got it," Jo sighed.

"Congressman!" she greeted him cordially. "How are you tonight?"

"Not well," he replied as he shook his head. "I was summoned to the Dark Tower."

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she sympathized.

"Came in here to drown my sorrows," he lamented.

"What are you having, sir? All drinks are on the house for a great public servant such as yourself!"

"It's been a rough night," he replied forlornly. "I'll have a Shirley Temple."

"George?" she waved over her bartender. "The Congressman will have a Shirley Temple and keep 'em coming!"

Jo saw an opportunity here; a slight crack in the fascist wall. If she could just gain this guy's trust? Get him to open up? It would be a whole new ballgame. Maybe she should diversify her acts. Get some less salacious entertainment happening at Salacious Showers, she though to herself. Just then, a voice called out to her as if from on high as Cliff's swing flew overhead. His body was oiled and shiny, his golden hair as bright as his G-string.

"I need to talk to you, Jo!" he demanded.

"Not now!" she gave him a scathing glare.

"Now!" his voice trailed off as the swing flew him away just as suddenly as it had appeared.

"When I was here last week, there was the most charming girl performing," Twinkie reminisced. "She was dancing the Old Soft Shoe. So wholesome."

"She'll be performing again tonight!" Jo assured.

"Really?" he sipped his drink and looked at her hopefully.

"Really," she patted his shoulder.

Boots came out of the office to collect the receipts.

"There she is!" Twinkie pointed at her.

"She'll be performing next!" Jo promised as she rounded the bar and cornered Boots.

"You need to do your tap dance routine again," Jo whispered to her.

"No way, Jo," Boots was miffed. "If it wasn't good enough for you when you came back, it's not good enough now! Besides, Jeff accused me of being a demented Michael Jackson impersonator!"

"I need you, Boots," Jo grabbed her elbow and gave her a serious look.

"Why?" Boots was curious.

"It's important or I wouldn't ask you," Jo threw a look over her shoulder towards the Congressman.

Boots thought for a moment.

"Nope. Sorry, Boss," she finally responded.

Jo took her hand and dragged her into the office. She grabbed her elbow again.

"Listen to me, Boots. That's a very important person out there that I have the chance of making inroads with. So you're going to fetch your shiny little shorts and top hat, which I happen to know you have stashed behind the stage, and get your ass out there and dance! Understand me?"

"Not unless you say please," Boots was defiant.

Jo smirked and sighed. "Please, Boots?"

"Well," she shook her arm loose of Jo's grasp. "As long as you asked so politely… I guess I can oblige."

A huge smile crossed her face as she ran out of the office to get into costume. Jo rubbed her brow. A headache was coming on. She moved to exit the office and found herself face-to-face with Cliff.

"Cliff! What are you doing? Get back on the swing! People pay a cover charge at the door to see you out there performing!"

"I want my clinic, Jo!" Cliff was upset. "I'm tired of swinging almost naked above a crowd of rich barbarians while poor, ordinary folks out there need basic healthcare!"

"I am in the process of procuring you a clinic," Jo snapped back at him. "You just have to trust me!"

"Is that what you told Blair?"

"What?" she was confused.

"To trust you?" he smirked at her. "You're using her again, aren't you?"

It was true. But this was the last thing Jo needed to hear.

"Whadda' ya mean by _again?_ " Jo objected.

"I know you hurt her before," he insisted.

"Wait… she told you?" Jo was surprised.

"Ha! So it's true!" he declared.

"I can't believe I fell for that," Jo put her hand to her head. "I must still be concussed."

"So, what did you do to her, Jo?" he asked as much out of curiosity as of the trace of protectiveness he still sometimes felt concerning his former girlfriend.

"I didn't do anything!" Jo was defensive. "Besides, whatever happened between me and Blair, whatever _is_ happening between me and Blair, is none of your business! Got it?"

"Of course it is!" he fired back. "You hurt her before when she trusted you. I don't want to see her get hurt again because of you! I saw the Paris photos. You think Blair is doing any of that if you hadn't showed up and changed her natural trajectory?"

Why did she always have to defend herself against those stupid pictures from France? First Tootie… now Cliff? What the hell did _she_ have to do with Blair kissing another woman in Paris?

"Her natural trajectory being you?" she finally retorted.

"I'm not saying that," he backed off.

"But you _are_ saying I turned Blair gay," she gazed at him intently.

"Well?" he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"The way I see it, Cliffy, is that _you're_ the one who turned Blair gay! I mean, after a girl spends a couple years with you, who could blame her?"

"Hey! Blair and I were fine! But you were always there, lurking in the background, badmouthing me to her, waiting your chance!"

"I got news for you. I was _never_ in the background. I was front and center in Blair's life from the moment we met," Jo gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "You weren't the first boy-toy she threw aside and you _definitely_ weren't the last."

"Now you're just being cruel, Jo," he looked defeated.

"Listen, Cliff, I'm sorry, okay? But we've got bigger things to worry about than which of us turned Blair gay!"

They stared at each other for a long moment, before both could not resist the urge to grin.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it," Cliff offered.

" _I_ obviously don't think so," Jo pointed at herself. "As a matter of fact, I actually like the idea."

"I'm starting to see the upside of it," he admitted. "I mean… those Paris photos were _hot!_ "

"Hey, let's not go there," Jo admonished, even as she remembered how _hot_ she had thought the photos were.

"Of course not," he agreed. "We're bigger than that."

"Bottom line is that we all have a role to play in this struggle. I have a role to play. You have a role to play. Blair has a role to play," Jo advised. "So…"

"So, I still want my clinic!" he interrupted her.

"Just get back on your swing, Cliff, and quit lecturing me about things! Customers are waiting!"

"I'm warning you, Jo," he turned to leave. "Don't fuck with Blair."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off. "Oh, and Cliff?"

"What?"

"Don't swing over Twinkie again. He's not into that sort of thing and I'm trying to win him over. Save the homoerotic stuff for Senator Douchebag from Texassistan, okay? He's a total perv, likes porn and all."

"Please don't do that, Jo."

"What?"

"Call it Texassistan! It's Texas, okay?"

"Okay. Save the homoerotic stuff for Senator Douchebag from Texas. Better?"

"Better. Oh, and thanks for the advice!" he said sarcastically as he headed for the door grumbling. "I hate my _role_."

Jo took a deep breath as she watched his tight, rounded, gold lamé ass exit her office.

"I hate my role, too, Cliff," she whispered to herself. "My life sucks."

* * *

Molly waited in Jo's office with a sense of anticipation combined with nervousness. _"Meet me in my office at 3,"_ the text read. This had to be about her request to sing and dance in the club! After all, she had let Boots go on with that tap dance crap. How could she deny her now? Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the arm of the chair as she waited. She couldn't take it anymore. She rose and walked over to Jo's desk, flipping through her calendar. Nothing! She was about to return to her seat, when Jo entered, followed closely by George.

"Something interesting on my desk?" Jo questioned her.

"Um, no. I saw a bug. Was going to kill it," she quickly covered.

"Have a seat," Jo took her place behind her desk.

Molly sat next to George and smiled at him pleasantly.

"Is this about me performing at the club?" she blurted out not believing she had just said that!

"Uh, no," Jo shook her head. "Something much more serious."

"Oh, okay," Molly felt more nervous than ever.

"Julio! Get in here!" Jo called out.

A teenage boy walked in with a tablet in hand. He was so engrossed in his screen that he walked right into the corner of Jo's desk.

"Ow!" he rubbed his leg.

"Tell them what you told me," Jo instructed.

"We have two badges from Trump's private security. There was a chip embedded in both. We were able to modify the chips so that we could create our own security badges."

"Who is we?" George asked skeptically.

"Me and my friends at the computer club over at Mary Anne MacLeod Trump High School," he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose.

"Okay then," George tilted his head and gave Jo a sideways glance.

"Hey! These kids have been doing great work for me," Jo assured.

"So… by modify, you mean?" George glanced at the young man.

"Entered new I.D.'s. They're perfect!" the boy enthused.

"Something tells me my life is going to depend on it," George sighed. "Jo?"

"We're going to break Natalie and Rachel out of the Fake News Gulag."

"Should've seen this coming," George shook his head. "What's the plan?"

"You and Molly are going in as Trump Security. You're removing Nat and Rachel for questioning in the Dark Tower. That's it. Simple. Smooth. Flawless."

"Unless your computer geniuses have made a mistake on the chips," George mentioned as he eyed Jo. "Then me and Molly end up in a dark hole that doesn't even have a name yet."

"Oh no!" Julio sneezed into his handkerchief. "They're perfect!"

"Disguises?" George questioned.

"I have a friend from a drag club coming over to make you up!" Jo smiled proudly.

"And when is this plan going down?" George asked.

"Tomorrow. Daybreak," Jo stated.

"Okay then," George sighed as he reclined back onto his seat. "You're the boss."

Molly sat quietly, somewhat dumbfounded. She was trying to take it all in.

"Um," she finally muttered. "So this means I _won't_ be singing and dancing in the club?"

* * *

"Out of bed you lazy Jews!" a guard hit Rachel and Natalie's bunk bed with her baton.

"Whaat?" Natalie rubbed her eyes as she sat up.

Rachel jumped down from her top bunk.

"Not that it matters," she stood before the guard defiantly, "but I'm Catholic."

"Yeah, like you said," the guard smirked at her. "It _doesn't_ matter. Your all the same anti-Christian ilk."

"Catholics _are_ Christians," Rachel corrected the guard.

"You want to fuck with me?" the guard raised her baton.

"No!" Natalie quickly jumped out of bed in defense of her friend. She put her arm around her and smiled at the guard. "My friend just has a nasty habit of always insisting upon the fake truth. I've been trying to break her of it. But, as you can see, she is indeed Jewish and obviously confused, seeing as you woke us before our scheduled work detail. It wouldn't be Christian to complain about that, right? Very Jewish!"

The guard was now thoroughly confused, which was Natalie's intention.

"So?" Nat smiled at her. "What can we do for you on this fine morning?"

"You're both wanted for questioning," the guard replied. "Get dressed."

"Yes Ma'am," Natalie saluted.

"Losers," the guard mumbled as she exited.

"Thanks, Nat," Rachel said as she sat down on the bunk. "I was about to go off on her."

"Must be that Irish temper of yours," Nat nudged her.

"I've got a little Irish in me," Rachel smiled. "But my grandfather _was_ Jewish."

"I knew that," Natalie smiled. "I can always tell good people when I meet them!"

"So, what do you think this is about?" Rachel questioned.

"I don't know," Natalie yawned. "It's too early to think."

They dressed and made their way to the end of the barracks, pounding on the door.

"What?" another angry guard answered.

"Um, were wanted for questioning?" Natalie looked at him like he was clueless.

"Oh, it's you. Right," he nodded.

He led them to an office and left them there as he shut and locked the door behind him. They were not alone for long. The warden walked in followed by two strange looking characters: one a man with gray hair and a mustache, the other a young woman with an obvious brown wig. They both looked oddly familiar to Natalie.

"These people are from Trump Security," the warden announced. "You will cooperate fully!"

"You can leave us now!" the gray-haired man commanded the warden.

"I always stay for interrogations of my prisoners!" the warden insisted.

"Not this time," the gray-haired man retorted. "We're Trump Security! Get it?"

The warden left in a huff as Natalie eyed the gray-haired man.

"George?" she said out loud.

He quickly shushed her as he nodded towards the security cameras.

"What do you know about the efforts to subvert the President's superiority and power with fake underground news such as the Washington Post and New York Times?" he questioned as he held a folder up to her.

Upon the folder was written: _Here to get you out. Play along._

"Oh. Oh!" Natalie stuttered. "I used to work for the New York Times. They, uh…"

"Provided fake news stories on a regular basis," Rachel finished her sentence.

"Who were your sources?" George insisted. "We need to know your sources!"

"I, um," Natalie stumbled.

"We won't reveal sources here!" Rachel answered for her once again. "Only to the leader, himself!"

George pushed his fake glasses back up onto his nose.

"That's it then, we'll have to take you to the Dark Tower right, Claire?"

"The Dark Tower, right!" Molly nodded in affirmation.

"I've been monitoring this conversation," the warden entered the room suddenly. "No one leaves my prison without authorization!"

"I think if you check our security clearance, you'll find we have authorization!" George announced boldly.

"My people are working on that at this very moment," the warden assured confidently. "We're verifying your badges."

George, Molly, Natalie and Rachel all eyed each other nervously.

"Badges?" Molly was feeling very anxious and tried to play along. "We don't need no stinking badges! We're Trump Security!"

"It's quite all right, Claire," George patted her hand. "Let them check."

"Claire Standish and Matt King," a guard entered breathlessly and reported to the warden. "Trump Security: highest clearance!"

"If I may, Warden?" George walked over to Nat and Rachel to handcuff them.

"All right then," the warden backed off reluctantly. "Anything for Our Leader! Right on, Trump!" he gave them the closed fist salute.

"Right on, Trump!" George and Molly saluted back.

* * *

"Natalie!" Tootie squealed in delight as she ran to her.

"Tootie!" Nat squealed back.

They hugged each other tightly, neither of them wanting to let go.

"Ow," Tootie finally pulled away. "I got shot. It still kinda' hurts."

"You let her get shot, Jo?" Natalie turned to her other friend.

"Jo rescued me from the Black Lives Matter Gulag, Natalie," Tootie explained. "It didn't go as smoothly as your extraction from prison."

"Jo," Natalie shook her head. "I don't know what to say. You rescued me _and_ you rescued Tootie?"

"All in a day's work," Jo shrugged in a nonchalant way.

"Get over here!" Natalie held her arms wide.

Jo walked into Natalie's hug.

"I told Rachel you were a hero," she whispered to her as she held her tight. Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Rachel?"

"I'm here, Nat," Rachel grinned.

"This is my friend, Jo. I told you she would get us out!"

"Nice to meet you, Jo," Rachel shook her hand. "Nat always called you her hero. Now, I see why."

"I'm just another fighter for the cause," Jo insisted.

"You are _much_ more than that," Rachel assured. "I can just look at you and tell that you are a leader!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jo balked. "The real heroes here are George and Molly!"

"I'm just glad to get out of this wig and make-up," George peeled off his fake mustache.

"Me too," Molly pulled off her wig.

"Where's that kid, Julio?" George questioned. "His badges worked to perfection!"

"Off with his friends," Jo smiled. "He's a teenager."

"Yeah, but, those badges really worked!" Molly enthused.

"Thought we didn't need no stinking badges?" George smiled at her.

Molly gave him a sheepish grin in return.

"How did you get your hands on Trump Security badges, anyway?" Natalie asked.

"Came through an undercover operative," Jo informed. "Got passed to me."

"So, can we celebrate or something now?" Molly asked.

"Sure. Why not?" Jo agreed. "Champagne for everyone!"

* * *

Blair sat in her suite at the Carlyle. She looked out over Central Park. The city was so beautiful. The view was breathtaking. But something was missing. As a matter of fact… everything was missing. She was alone.

What was the saying? _What did it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?_ She seemed to have done that in reverse. It was never that her soul was in question. But she had given up everything that mattered to her: friends, lovers, family… to help save her country. Her gain would not be personal, except in the same way it was personal to all Americans. That, she guessed, was worth it. But it had come at a high cost.

She wondered where her friends were right now. She wondered what they were doing. All those people, whom she still loved, but she was quite sure now hated her. What were they doing? She missed her friends.

Ah, _what the heck?_ She might go to a club tonight. There was a young woman who was doing fusion music: quite the buzz around her. Theresa had invited her to go. She could go do that, _right?_

She stepped out onto her balcony, gazed at the skyline and took a sip from her glass of Champagne. Alone.


	6. Stroll Around the Grounds

It was a gorgeous summer day in Central Park. A couple of billowy white clouds floated across a beautiful blue sky. George sailed a remote controlled boat across the lake. Blair picked it up on the other side.

 _This is so ridiculous!_ She shook her head as she removed the message.

" _How good is your intell?"_ it read.

She took out her invisible ink marker and wrote on the back: _Solid!_

She placed the boat in the water and he sailed it back over. Her information was as good as it could be. At risk of her own personal safety, she had confirmed it through Tweedledee and Tweedledum: Trump's stupid-ass sons. The attack on the Statue of Liberty was to take place on August 9th.

She watched as he retrieved the tiny sailing ship and held her message to the sky. _This is so ridiculous_ , she thought. _Why can't I just go over there and talk to him? I'm so sick of this cloak and dagger stuff!_

She thought about her father as she watched children play with their parents around the lake. Not that he ever played with her as a child that she could recall. But seeing kids with their Dad's couldn't help but remind her of him. He was under threat from the Russians. She worried about him constantly. Russian operatives poisoned folks with horrible drugs that slowly destroyed people's organs and faces and took weeks to take full effect. Just eew! _Be safe, Daddy!_

She looked back across the lake. George was gone. She was truly through the looking glass at this point: in a strange and bizarre land.

"Blair!"

She was shaken from her thoughts as a young woman approached her.

"Theresa? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?" Blair felt suddenly paranoid.

"No," Theresa tilted her head. "It's my day off. Remember?"

"And I agreed to go to a club with you," Blair relaxed a little. "But… how did you find me?"

"I went to the hotel and they said you had gone out. I just took a chance that you might be here," she smiled pleasantly.

"And you found me!" Blair rose to face her. "Kind of early to be hitting a club, don't you think?"

"Um," the young woman was taken aback. "You said you would talk to me about setting up my own business. Have lunch?"

 _She did say that._ She had been so distracted that she had forgotten.

"Right," she sighed as she gazed at the hopeful young woman in front of her.

"It's okay if you're too busy," Theresa stated timidly.

"Of course not!" Blair took her hand, feeling somewhat guilty that she had forgotten. "Let's get lunch."

* * *

Jo sipped her morning coffee as she perused the New York Times. _Always good to keep up with the underground press_. She read both the Times and the Washington Post each day, searching for any tidbit that might give her an advantage. Both were but a shell of their former selves, being forced to run on a shoestring budget while putting up with constant harassment from the government. In Trump's America, they were "Fake News," and, therefor, subject to raids and petty building inspections and such. Reporters had to stay undercover and use false names like Clark Kent and Lois Lane so that they wouldn't be jailed under the Fake News Sedition Act. The law didn't cover editors or publishers because the people in Congress who passed it were just plain stupid. As a result, the newspapers continued in a much-reduced capacity, overwhelmed by the glut of official government news, which assaulted the senses of the public over the airwaves, on the Internet, and in print. But, Jo was an information junkie and these were still two sources that could be relied upon. To her dismay, she just couldn't trust the Internet anymore. The Russians had totally messed with it. Besides, any search she tried would be immediately tracked back to her. Even social media was compromised. It was a good thing they hadn't completely abandoned print media before the country fell into the grip of fascism. Digital information was just no longer reliable.

"What a world," she sighed as she scanned the paper.

She was hoping she wouldn't come across anything about Blair. There was an item about her at a club with a cute blonde a couple days ago. _A blonde… really, Blair? And here I thought brunettes were your type._ At least they weren't kissing this time. But, man oh man: Blair was coming close to blowing her cover. They needed Blair to stay clean. She had really been coming through for them with her insider connections. She was a valuable asset who needed to be more discreet, Jo figured. And whatever she did at this point, Blair was newsworthy; whether she liked it or not. Plus, Jo found it inordinately distracting coming across news stories about her out there enjoying herself with other women. Yeah, sure, she had been out of touch with her for a while now, since their falling out. But, it still hurt when she saw her with someone else. Jo had to keep her focus. She was a leader in the resistance. Leaders didn't let themselves get distracted by beautiful women, did they?! _Oh wait…_

" _Damn, Polniaczek! Stay focused!"_ she chastised herself internally. Her eyes drifted to something on her shelf: a memento Blair had given her years ago when they were together. It was a tiny figurine… a puppy with big, sad brown eyes.

" _Reminded me of you," Blair said._

" _Because of my big brown eyes?" Jo returned a quizzical look._

" _Alright, then… reminded me of me. I want you to have it so that you'll always remember how much I love you," Blair smiled._

Jo felt alone. She was surrounded by the people working for her, as well as friends and family… but she felt apart from them all, somehow. Everyone was looking up to her, wanting direction, depending on her leadership. Yet, she was empty inside: depleted. She desperately longed for that one person she could talk to, pour her heart out to…

"Blair," she sighed. "What happened?"

Her phone chirped. It was George.

" _You're needed in downstairs,"_ the text read.

* * *

Natalie and Tootie were thrilled to be back together. They had lunch sent up from the kitchen and ate in Tootie's room upstairs from the club. Nat dove into her sandwich with reckless abandon.

"Whoa! Slow down there, Nat!" Tootie cautioned. "Wouldn't want you rescued from prison just to choke on a sandwich!"

"Oh my God, Tootie! They fed us lime Jell-O and matzo balls! I've been dreaming of a sandwich like this for months now!"

"Okay," Tootie laughed. "Enjoy yourself."

"I am so happy you weren't killed, by the way, Tootie," Natalie managed between bites. "I mean in the gulag and being shot and all."

"Back at you," Tootie nibbled on her salad.

"So… Jo," Nat shook her head in admiration. "She's really something, huh?"

"She rescued us both," Tootie agreed.

"But?" Natalie gazed at her friend curiously.

"But, nothing… she saved us both," Tootie reiterated.

"Don't try to fool me, Dorothy Ramsey. I _always_ know when you think there's trouble!"

"No," Tootie laughed again. "Not trouble, Nat. It's just…"

She shook her head and looked away.

"It's just what, Tootie? I'm dying here! C'mon!"

"All right, then," Tootie looked her directly in the eyes. "Blair."

"Ah!" Natalie placed the sandwich on her plate, her attention now totally focused on her friend. "You think there's something up there, too? Spill!"

"It's just not like her to take up with Trump and his ilk after what he did to her father."

"Agreed," Natalie nodded. "Continue."

"Well, the other day, Jeff and I were watching TV with Jo when Blair came on at some medal ceremony in Washington, D.C. I noticed she kinda' wouldn't let us joke about Blair. And believe me, after the photos from Paris…"

"Hold on! _What_ photos from Paris?" Natalie stopped her.

"Oh that's right! You didn't see them!" Tootie remembered. "Blair was photographed totally kissing this woman in Paris! It was all over the media!"

"Damn!" Natalie was exasperated. "I've got to remember to stay out of prison… you miss all the gossip!"

"And it was _big_ , Nat!" Tootie's eyes grew wide. "America's Sweetheart making out with another woman? So, anyway, Jo's like defending her to Jeff and me. Like, we don't _really_ know what Blair was doing in Paris and such. That's when I became suspicious."

"Like Jo knows something we don't?"

"Well, yeah!" Tootie gazed at her incredulously. "Jo _always_ knows something about Blair we don't. Remember?"

"All too well…" Natalie resumed eating her sandwich.

"So?" Tootie questioned her impatiently. "What do _you_ know?"

"So, when I was in prison, Rachel came up with this theory about Blair."

"Wait! Rachel did? She doesn't even know Blair, does she?"

"No. But Rachel does know just about everything," Nat informed her friend casually. "So, anyway, she has this theory that Blair is actually deep undercover working for us from the inside. It made total sense."

"It _does_ make sense, Nat! Blair would never betray us like that!"

"I know, right?" Natalie nodded. "I feel so guilty about how I told her off on social media."

"Me, too," Tootie shook her head. "Of course, Jo's the only one who knows for sure and she ain't talking."

"Did you expect her to? No matter what happened between them, Jo would never betray Blair or vice versa," Nat returned to her sandwich.

"Whadda' you think happened with them?" Tootie queried.

Natalie relaxed back into her chair and took a sip of iced tea. She shook her head and thought for a moment.

"I ran into Blair at the airport a couple of years ago, when I was still working for the Times. I asked her if she was okay and how was Jo because, you remember, they were living together in Manhattan after college."

"Yeah, I remember," Tootie affirmed. "They were kinda' a world unto themselves for awhile."

"Anyway, when I asked her about Jo, tears filled her eyes."

"So why was she crying?"

"I don't know," Natalie shrugged. "She changed the subject. But that's when she took off for Europe to run her Dad's business interests over there."

"So," Tootie sighed deeply as she sank back into her chair. "Jo broke her heart, somehow."

"It's a possibility," Nat agreed. "They should've let us into their lives more back then. Maybe we could've helped. Why would they keep something like that from us?"

"Who knows? It was always so hard to tell what was going on with them, anyway. One minute they were fighting and calling each other names, the next they were sitting on the couch with their heads together reading a book and laughing. I could never figure it," Tootie shook her head.

"Well, opposites attract, as they say. And, boy, were they opposite!" Nat nodded. "Like fire and water."

"Like yin and yang."

"Like oil and vinegar."

"I think that's salad dressing, Nat."

"Well, whadda' ya want? I'm still hungry!" Natalie shrugged.

"We're both thinking they were more than just friends, right?"

"Duh," Natalie grinned. "Especially after the photos you told me about! Show me, Tootie! I know you saved them!"

"Maybe," Tootie raised her eyebrows provocatively.

"Show me!" Nat demanded.

Jo entered her office to find ten guys surrounding George.

* * *

"Oh, Jo, you're here!" George said as the others backed into the corners of the room. "These are some of our supporters from the intelligence community!"

"The _Men in Black_?" Jo questioned as she walked to her desk.

"In a manner of speaking," George replied. "They're here to help with the August 9th action."

"Meaning?" she gave him a curious gaze.

"They want to protect the Statue of Liberty as much as we do," he responded firmly. "We just need access to particular weapons. They have to be totally untraceable."

"And you figure I have them?" Jo eyed him intently.

"My guys are good," George continued. "Here's what we need: two rocket launchers and two silent weapons to protect them."

"That's all?" Jo tilted her head at him.

"Yep," he gave her smile.

"Let's say I have them," she crossed her arms across her chest as she rocked back in her chair. "What would your guys do with them?"

"Our intell is solid on this, Jo. They intend to replace the Emma Lazarus plaque with another. We're going to take out that other plaque before it can be placed on the base of the statue."

"By blowing it up?" Jo questioned.

For the first time the _Men in Black_ George had brought into the office began to respond.

"Yep."

"Yeah."

"Works for me."

"Completely doable."

"Without a trace."

"Well okay," Jo's rocked forward in her chair, smiling. "I like the attitude. But, the word is out on this already. Many concerned citizens will be showing up. I need guarantees that no one will be harmed by your actions."

"We're good at this, Jo," George stated confidently. "No one will be hurt because of what we do."

"All right then," she rose to get the key for the secret room upstairs. When she turned to face George again… all his friends had vanished.

"What the…?" she looked around.

"I told you they were good," he shrugged.

"But that's just…" she couldn't find the words.

"Amazing?" he tried to fill in the blanks for her.

"I was going to say creepy-weird," she shook her head. "Listen, George, people are going to show up there on August 9th. I can't emphasize enough that I don't want innocent people harmed because of anything we do."

"No way, Jo!" he assured her. "We're just going to take that phony plaque out!"

Blair sat in a nightclub tapping her foot nervously upon the floor.

* * *

"Are you alright, Blair?" Theresa asked as she leaned in to her to be heard over the loud music.

"Yeah. Fine," Blair smiled. "Just can't believe I'm going to get to see her again!"

 _Her_ was Valera: a fusion artist Blair had become fascinated with. She was Venezuelan, had closed cropped hair, played the guitar, sang, danced and rapped.

"She's _so_ amazing!" Blair enthused.

"She is!" Theresa agreed.

The lights dimmed as the pulsating music stopped. A voice announced over the sound system: _"Ladies and Gentlemen, The Weimar Republic Café is proud to present… Valera!"_

A spotlight hit an empty stage as a voice was heard:

 _I will not be controlled, nor marginalized. Not by a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot. I will feel my womanhood and will be realized._

"That's so amazing," Blair sighed.

"What?" Theresa gazed at her expectantly.

"She quoted _Nine to Five_!" Blair gave her a huge grin as a devastating electric guitar riff rang out.

Valera entered the spotlight and began to wail on her guitar as the band joined in behind her with a bass and drum heavy rhythmic beat. The crowd went wild as they rushed the stage.

"C'mon, Blair," Theresa tried to pull her up. "Don't you want to go up there?"

"No," Blair hadn't removed her eyes from the woman on stage. "I'll just watch from here."

* * *

Jo had taken the afternoon off. She handed a tool to her Uncle Sal as he adjusted a carburetor.

"I'm worried about you, Kid," he looked up at her. "That club? Those people? You're in over your head."

"I can handle it, Uncle Sal," she tried to assuage his concern.

"Yeah, but the police, Jo. They're not trained for conflict resolution anymore. They're trained to kill now: shoot first, make excuses later. I'm worried you'll be out there and get shot by the police," he sighed.

"The police are my friends, Uncle Sal," Jo winked and grinned at him.

"Hey, Jo!" her cousin Paulie walked into the garage, quickly followed by his brother and sister.

"We're down for you on the 9th!" Bud reported.

"All the way," Terry agreed.

"I, uh, don't want you guys there," Jo shook her head. "It could get messy."

"That's why we're going to be there!" Paulie insisted.

"No!" Jo was adamant. "You don't understand. Things could get out of control… fast!"

"Like when there was a riot outside your club and you didn't call us for back-up?" Paulie was insulted. "Not happening again, Jo."

"No way," Bud chimed in.

"You're our cousin and we've got your back… all the way!" Paulie stated. "Besides all that, it's the Statue of Liberty, for cryin' out loud! It's not really your call."

"Yeah, Jo, that belongs to all of us," Terry agreed.

"But, I've got some inside info, guys. You should just stay away," Jo warned.

"Listen to your cousin!" Uncle Sal shook a wrench at them. "She knows what she's talking about! I don't want _her_ there, but I can't stop her! You are my children and I _can_ stop you!"

"Sorry, Pop, but you can't stop _us_ either," Paulie was defiant. "I watched that whole riot happen in front of her club, ran down there, couldn't find her…"

"You were there?" Jo was amazed.

"Of course I was," he gave her a chastising glance. "You should've called me in the first place!"

"I didn't want you involved," Jo stared at him.

"Too dangerous?" Paulie looked at her in disbelief.

"Exactly!" Jo leveled her gaze at him. "And August 9th will be worse!"

"You can't stop us, Jo," her cousin shook his head at her. "Indivisible is going. We'll just join them."

"And the police and Antifa and the white supremacists and…"

"So very fine people on both sides?" Paulie questioned. "Like Trump says, right?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Paulie!" Jo was upset at his accusation. "I've pretty much given up my whole life to fight fascism!"

"So? Let us join you!" he made his point.

"Paulie, it's going to be a shit show. I don't want my family there."

"Listen to your cousin!" Uncle Sal admonished.

"We're going!" he was adamant as his brother and sister nodded their agreement. "Jo, you're in this fight and we're in it with you!"

"Fuck," Jo whispered to herself.

"Language, young lady!" Uncle Sal scolded her as they exchanged wrenches.

* * *

 **August 9th**

Blair showered after her morning massage. Theresa just kinda' hung out now in her hotel suite since the two had become friends and business partners. Blair trusted and liked Theresa. She was like comfort food: a regular American girl with achievable dreams of success.

"Did you eat breakfast?" she asked her new friend.

"Yeah," Theresa replied. "I had a power bar."

"That's not breakfast," Blair shook her head as she picked up the phone. "Send up scrambled eggs, fruit, toast and coffee."

"It's amazing how you do that," Theresa shook her head.

"Do what?" Blair looked at her quizzically.

"Just feel so confident to order people around."

"I wasn't ordering people around, I was ordering breakfast," Blair laughed.

"I know, but you didn't say please or thank you… you just ordered."

"Oh," Blair placed her fingers to her lips feeling remiss. "You're right. Civility is so important these days and I forgot to do that. Guess I'm falling into ugly past habits. Been hanging out with a bad crowd."

"It's okay. I'm just amazed at people like you: so in control. My family's not like that."

"It's not okay, Theresa. I feel like I'm in a bad dream, sometimes."

"You? You've got it all! My family?" she hesitated.

"Tell me, Theresa," Blair leaned towards her.

"Well, I've only got my Mom and my little brother, my Dad left years ago."

"Sorry," Blair offered.

"Mom is a secretary. She works for a school. My little brother is only eleven. He's special needs, meaning he's, um, Down Syndrome. So, you setting up this business for me means the world, Blair!"

"Oh my God, Theresa! Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"You never asked," Theresa shrugged.

"I _have_ been completely wrapped up in myself," Blair reflected. "I'm sorry."

"Plus, you're so important, talking to the President and such," Theresa nodded.

"Um, that's not quite as it seems, Theresa," Blair frowned. "Let's just say… it's a duty."

"Well, I didn't want to bother you with my family's problems in any case," Theresa added.

There was a sudden pounding on the door.

"Room service?" Blair's eyes lit up as she jumped from the couch. She opened the door. What she saw… shocked her.

* * *

Jo and George observed the grounds on Liberty Island from high up in the Statue of Liberty's crown thanks to the National Park Rangers who worked there and were in complete support of the resistance.

"My guys are in place," George assured her.

"Yeah, yeah," Jo shook her head. "I'm just more than a little worried today."

"Why? Everything will go off like clockwork," he continued to appease her.

"Look!" she pointed towards the dock. "Protesters are showing up!"

"We expected this, Jo," he tried to calm her.

"But there's a huge police presence here already," Jo bit her lower lip. "I just hope everyone keeps their cool!"

"This is going to be a surgical strike by my guys," he nodded confidently. "In, out, done."

"I'm not worried about _your_ guys, George," Jo turned to him. "It's everyone else."

"Looks like we have some unwanted traffic," Park Ranger Patty looked through her binoculars.

"What do you mean?" Jo questioned.

"Small boats, several of them," Ranger Patty reported.

"Damn," Jo exhaled loudly.

"Here comes the helicopter!" George pointed at the chopper flying in with a huge plaque.

"Patty, may I?" Jo asked for the ranger's binoculars.

Jo focused in on the plaque meant to replace the Emma Lazarus one presently gracing the base of the statue. It read: _America for Americans!_

* * *

As Blair opened the door to her suite, she was face to face with Valera, herself.

"Oh my God! You're Valera!" she gushed like a fan girl.

"I have seen you at my shows," she passed by her as she entered the suite. "I need to know why Trump's girlfriend would be attending my performances."

"Hey! I'm not Trump's girlfriend!" Blair defended herself.

Valera was maybe more impressive in person than she was on stage. She emanated a presence of confidence, bordering on arrogance, yet tempered by a light touch, an almost indescribable breezy persona. She somehow pulled off being elegant and tough all at once. On top of all that, she was undeniably beautiful.

"A meal is being delivered, I think," she intoned with a charming accent as room service showed up behind her.

"Breakfast!" Theresa was enthusiastic.

"You," Valera eyed her as she sauntered over to the couch, "I do not know."

"Oh! I was at your shows with Blair, too!" Theresa pointed out.

Blair was getting pissed off.

"I don't remember inviting you in," she placed both her hands on her hips.

"And, yet, you come to watch me every night," Valera helped herself to some fruit.

"I'm, uh, going to turn on the T.V." Theresa mentioned, trying to cut the tension.

"Only because I like your music," Blair rolled her eyes in an epic manner.

"You like more than my music," Valera sucked on a strawberry seductively. "So… what does Trump's girlfriend want from me?"

"That's the last time you call me that!" Blair approached her menacingly.

"Or you'll what?" Valera laughed. She leveled her glance at Blair. "I saw you in the audience, every night. I asked my people: who is this beautiful woman who stalks me?"

"Hey! I have never stalked anyone!" Blair was outraged.

"When they tell me Blair Warner, I was intrigued. I came to find you," she popped a grape into her mouth.

"So, who's stalking whom?" Blair finally regained herself.

"Um, hey guys, you should watch this," Theresa interrupted.

"Not now, Teresa!" Blair dismissed her.

"No," Valera crossed her legs and smiled. "Do not disturb the blonde goddess."

"Oh, so _I'm_ acting like a goddess?" Blair smirked. "You need to check yourself!"

"No, you guys really need to watch this!" Theresa reiterated.

"What?" Blair was irritated.

"They're flying in a new plaque for the Statue of Liberty!" Theresa reported.

"I knew that," Blair was off her guard.

"Turn up the T.V., small blonde person," Valera commanded. "Let us all bare witness to the new America in front of it's princess!"

"Hey! Only my Dad get's to call me that," Blair responded angrily.

" _This is so glorious!"_ a male newsman gushed. _"Finally Americans will have a true representation on our most iconic statue!"_

" _This is an iconic moment,"_ a female reporter agreed. _"It's just, just… iconic!"_

" _All of America must be proud today!"_ the male newsman enthused.

" _Well, I know I am!"_ the newswoman agreed. _"It's just so inspiring seeing the helicopter fly in with the plaque… a true symbol of American strength and superiority!"_

" _And there it is!"_ he announced. _"It's coming into view! It says…"_

There was a sudden explosion as the new plaque was blown out of the sky and disintegrated into dust.

" _There seems to be something, I can't quite describe it… but, that something has gone terribly wrong!"_ the newsman reported breathlessly.

" _What happened to the plaque?"_ the female reporter called out _. "It exploded!"_

" _Oh! The humanity!"_ her colleague lamented passionately.

"Yes!" Blair couldn't help but pump her fist as she laughed.

"Interesting," Valera eyed her intently.

* * *

"Yes!" George pumped his fist as he watched the plaque explode and the helicopter fly off. His men disappeared as he turned to Jo. "I told you my guys would get that!"

"Yeah, but look down there," Jo pointed to the base of the statue.

A fight had broken out between the fascists and protesters. The police were moving in dressed in full riot gear.

"Can I borrow your binoculars, Patty?" he asked.

"My cousins are down there, George!" Jo exclaimed.

He peered through the binoculars at the action below.

"My guys are gone, without a trace! But it is getting a little heated down there, " he reported to Jo.

She did not answer. He turned to look at her, but she was gone. "Damn!"

Jo flew down the steps of the Statue of Liberty. She exited the pedestal and rounded the corner. She reached for her gun… just in case. _Damn! Where was her gun?_ Shit! Had she had left it on the desk in her office? How could she be so careless? Distracted, she guessed. She was determined to find her cousins. She scanned the crowd searching for them. She thought she saw Paulie. She pointed and called to him.

Gunfire.

It was strange being shot. Not what Jo expected at all. She felt a burning, then a loss of equilibrium as she spun helplessly to the ground. She was aware of blood flowing out of her body as she gazed at a couple of billowy white clouds as they floated across a beautiful blue sky. _What a gorgeous summer day_. She felt herself slowly growing cold, as two cops appeared over her, blurry in her vision.

"What did you do?"

"I dunno'! I thought she had a gun! I feared for my life!"

"She's not even black! Plus, she's a girl! What were you thinking?"

"She was pointing something! I feared for my life!"

"Oh my God, it's Jo Polniaczek, from the club downtown! We have to get her to the hospital! This could be big trouble. Did you remember to bring a gun to plant?"

"Yeah, I got one."

"Okay, leave it, just in case."

"Uncle Sal was right," Jo thought as she drifted off and her eyes began to flutter shut. "The cops shot me!"

She faded into darkness.


	7. Jesus Loves You More Than You Will Know

They had pumped her full of drugs, but Jo still struggled to sleep. Her hands had been cut up from Tootie's escape. Her head had been bashed during the Willis episode and now this… actually in the hospital with a bullet wound? She had been _so_ beat up! Her role was to run a club for the underground resistance, of which she was an important leader. But somehow, she just couldn't help but to become physically engaged. This whole idea of her remaining a passive, patient operative was antithetical to her. Yet, beyond her own expectations, for the most part… she had managed to carry it off.

Both her parents had been at her bedside, each expressing their concern for her wellbeing. Her cousins and Uncle Sal had been by. All her friends from the club had visited. Yet, this outpouring of love and support felt, oddly, uncomforting. She longed for something more. She felt empty and abandoned. Everything she was doing had a price. And, so many, had paid the ultimate price. Was it worth it? She had no doubt. Really she didn't. She would lay down her own life for this cause. But, right now, in the middle of the night in the hospital? She just wished, desperately, for some comfort. She wished for something tangible, beyond a cause, which made it all worthwhile. She grimaced as she turned in her bed. Her eyes blinked open for a second. It was then that she saw it: a visage perched on the foot of her bed. She tried to focus. Was she dreaming?

"Blair?" she whispered.

The drugs… they were playing tricks on her mind. She hated hospitals! Or, oh God! She was dying! The angel of death was upon her! She felt a hand placed gently upon her leg: another illusion, no doubt.

"Hey," a soft voice emanated from the darkness.

"You're here?" she questioned.

"Duh," came the reply.

"No. I'm dreaming."

"Have it your way then, Silly. You're dreaming. I'm a dream. Actually, Jo, I always knew I was a dream come true for you. Thanks for confirming that for me."

"Shut up, Blair!"

They both laughed as Jo winced and reached for her side.

"Now see what you've done," Blair rose and poured her some water.

"There should be a straw," Jo informed.

"There isn't," came the reply. Blair sat gingerly on the side of the bed, next to her friend.

"What are you doing here?" Jo asked as Blair placed the water to her lips and she cupped her hands with her own.

Blair didn't answer right away as she helped her drink. She regarded her friend with a sense of wonderment tempered by apprehension. She had given so much of herself physically. Why? All she had to do was stay safe in that stupid nightclub and smile at the men who came through there. It was much like the role _she_ had been playing; only one degree removed. Why did she persist with fighting in the streets? That's just Jo, she shook her head slightly; can't help herself. She absently brushed a dark strand of hair from Jo's forehead and became lost in green eyes.

"Blair?"

"We're actually on the same side, Jo," she gently dabbed a droplet of water on Jo's lower lip with her thumb, allowing it to linger.

Jo didn't answer. She had been forced to keep up this crazy façade that she hated Blair because she wasn't the one pulling all the strings. She was answerable to someone. What was she going to do now?

"I saw the Paris pictures," she finally responded.

"Oh," Blair looked down. "Sorry."

"Why should you be sorry?" Jo reached out and gently held her hand. "Don't ever be sorry, Blair."

"So… you're not mad at me?"

"No."

"I thought you might be."

"Listen, Blair, I have some questions, okay? But most of us can only dream of doing what you were doing in Paris," Jo gave her a crooked grin. She thought the better of it and released her hand, not wanting to give too much away. "I mean, living the life over there."

"America's Sweetheart," Blair smiled ironically.

"America's Sweetheart? You?" Jo rolled her eyes. "As if…"

"Hey! It's not _that_ farfetched!" Blair took exception.

"Sure it is," Jo smirked.

"Like you would know!" Blair huffed. "Besides, you believed it!"

"No I didn't! That would've made us on opposite sides. Impossible!" Jo gave her another little grin.

"That would _never_ happen!" Blair was quick to agree.

"Right?"

"But, you believe me now, don't you?" Blair gazed at her hopefully.

Jo looked her squarely in the eyes and placed her hand on top of her friend's. "I do."

"You say that like you always knew."

"That you were on the same side as me? Always. Duh."

There was a long silence as they gazed into each other's eyes and slowly joined hands again in the darkness of the hospital room. Neither made a move to disengage.

"Can you get me some more water, Blair?" Jo finally managed.

"Of course!" Blair was happy to oblige.

"How'd you get in here after hours, by the way?" Jo questioned.

"I used my top-secret operative skills," Blair flashed her a smile that seemed to chase away the gloom of their dreary surroundings.

"That's my girl," Jo's smile was equally as brilliant. "No one ever said you weren't smart."

"Excuse me?" Blair laughed as she helped her drink. " _You_ did on more than one occasion, as I recall."

"Nah, I called you vapid and stuff like that."

"Oh, yeah. _That's_ much better!" Blair smirked.

"There's a big difference, Blair. Vapid means offering nothing that is interesting or challenging. Not being smart means being _incapable_ of offering anything that is interesting or challenging. I always knew you were capable."

"What am I going to do with you?" Blair shook her head as she grinned affectionately at her.

"Yeah, well anyway," Jo relaxed back into her pillows. "That was a lifetime ago, before this national nightmare descended upon us."

"You can say that again," Blair sighed. "How did this happen?"

"Lots of reasons," Jo offered sadly.

"They've got me hanging out with Putin and Trump," Blair complained. "It sucks. Just disgusting."

"It's important work, Blair, and you're uniquely qualified to do it. You're a natural with people in positions of power. Not many could do what you're doing!"

"Thanks… _I guess_ ," Blair bit her lower lip. "But, I hate it, Jo. They're always leering at me and propositioning me. When I find out who chose me for this assignment, I'm going to kill them! I swear!"

Jo dropped her head and looked away.

"The worst part is, they won't let me see you! What's that all about?"

"Hey! _That_ wasn't my decision!" Jo glared at her defensively.

"But why, Jo? You're playing a role. I'm playing a role. We're both on the same side as far as appearances are concerned."

"I don't know, Blair. Like I said, it wasn't my choice. But if I were to guess: plausible deniability, probably. I mean, if one of us gets outed as being part of the resistance, the other is still not compromised, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Blair sighed.

"Or maybe they don't trust us together. We do have a past, ya' know? Maybe we're considered too volatile together, or something," Jo added.

"But how would anyone know that?" Blair shook her head again. "I'm tired of it. You need my help now and I'm going to help you!"

"No, Blair. You'll blow your cover. America's Sweetheart does not hang out at Salacious Showers!"

"After the Paris incident?" Blair raised her eyebrows at her. "I think that cover's already blown!"

"The Enquirer put a good spin on that," Jo reminded.

"Yeah, but who reads the Enquirer?" Blair gazed at her incredulously.

"No one but the very people we need to keep fooling about you!" Jo returned her disbelieving glare.

"Yeah… right," Blair conceded.

"Um, about Paris," Jo gazed at her questioningly. "What happened? I mean, how did you _let_ that happen?"

"Jesus, Jo. I was there for months working for the resistance. Marie is a very charming, beautiful woman. I'd given up my dignity. All my friends had bought my act. They all hated me. Was I supposed to give up any semblance of a personal life, as well? I'm not a saint, you know? I'm not _really_ America's Sweetheart!"

"No, Blair," Jo explained calmly. "I just meant: how did you let yourself get followed like that?"

"Oh, oh! I guess Marie had deeper feelings for me than I had gaged."

"She was in love with you then?"

"I never meant for it to happen," Blair shrugged.

"Damn it, Blair! You're beautiful and intelligent and charming and funny… how was she _not_ supposed to fall in love with you? It was careless on your part."

"You think I'm charming, Jo?"

"That's not the point, Blair, and you know it!"

"But, you think I'm beautiful?" Blair persisted as her thumb lightly stroked Jo's fingers.

"You know I do," Jo glared at her intently as she tightened her grip on Blair's hand.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Jo's demeanor finally softened under Blair's persistently sweet gaze.

"Were you in love her, Blair?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"No. But I did love her. I do love her."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes," Blair looked down as she released her hand. She felt exposed and, inexplicably, slightly embarrassed.

Jo was silent. Her heart dropped a little. A shadow passed over her. She had no right to feel this way and she knew it. But she was jealous! _Get over it!_ She chastised herself. Besides, there was a war for the soul of the nation going on… much more important things than her personal feelings. She felt exhausted and sad and _so_ beat up. She rested her head back into her pillows and closed her eyes.

"I'm tired, Blair," she sighed.

"I'll let you sleep," Blair brushed her cheek with her hand. "But, I'm going to take care of you."

"No, you're not," Jo yawned.

"Yes I am. Just as soon as you're out of here."

"No you're not," Jo's voice was a whisper.

"Yes, I am," Blair kissed her forehead.

Jo rested momentarily before opening her eyes again.

"Blair?"

She was gone. Vanished into the dark. Yet her heart was full. She had found the comfort that she so desired. Blair was back!

She closed her eyes as sleep came to her at long last. She dreamt of Paris.

* * *

Jo awoke to see Cliff checking the chart at the end of her bed.

"What's up, Doc?"

"Good to see your scintillating humor hasn't been wounded," he smirked at her. "You're in for a long recovery period, Jo. Lucky to have survived, really."

"Yeah, that's me," she adjusted herself slowly so as to see him better. "Lucky."

"You're going to need some help when you get home," he mentioned with concern.

"That's what I've got you for, right?"

"I would be only too happy to devote myself full time to your recovery. But, as we both know, that isn't possible."

"Yeah, your trapeze act is a main draw. Sorry, Cliff. But I can't spare you, even if it is to take care of me."

"You've got more problems than that," he sat beside her bed.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you have a gun when you were shot?" he questioned.

"No. I would have, but I guess I left it in my office. Why?"

"The police are saying you had a gun pointed at them," Cliff informed.

"Oh my God, Cliff! That's such a lie!" Jo became agitated. "They just shot me! No reason!"

"Settle down," he placed his hand on her shoulder. "I believe you. But the police are saying otherwise."

Jo relaxed back into her pillows.

"So… it's costing us business?"

"Um, actually, no. The way the public sees it; you were shot protecting the Statue of Liberty. At least that's the way the _Enquirer_ spun it. The club's more popular than ever."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Jo shook her head and closed her eyes.

"The sale went through on the building next door," he informed. "George has a construction crew in there working on it now."

"Really? That was fast! I only talked to Fat Ass about it last week."

"Jo," he gave her a serious look. "That was a month ago. You've been in the hospital for a couple weeks. Remember?"

"No way!" she sat up suddenly. "I remember everything: my family was here, my friends were here, Blair was here!"

"Blair? Think about that, Jo. Probably a dream, right?"

"No, Cliff! It was real!"

"There are psychological consequences to being shot which can cause memory loss. You've been recovering nicely and your friends and family _have_ visited."

"I know that!" she eyed him disdainfully. "But, Blair was here, too."

"You also thought that a month ago was last week. Think about that."

"I lost track of time, momentarily. Big deal!"

"Okay then," he sighed. "Your memory notwithstanding, you're physical condition is much improved. You're being released in a day or two, so long as you're mentally clear. I can take care of you in the daytime, but you'll need someone to spend the night. Just think about it, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, Cliff," she felt totally confused and disoriented. "I will."

 _Was it a dream?_

* * *

She was in the Dark Tower… again. Blair hated this whole thing: being summoned, expected to comply! It was a "party" for the new America. Putin was there, yucking it up over vodka.

"The best, Donald," he slapped Trump on the back and laughed, "Was when you said: _Russia, if you're listening!_ It took big ones! To put it right in America's face!"

President Trump was not a drinker. He was a Tweeter. But he had become more comfortable around drunks since his presidency was due, almost wholly, to Russians.

"I have terrific Big Ones," he gave his trademark smirk.

"We have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams!" Putin held his shot glass high. "To the new America! Russia's puppet!"

There was silence in the room as those gathered were not quite sure how to react.

"To the new America!" Putin stood and stomped his foot, his face growing red with anger.

"To the new America!" Trump, always the weasel, stood and toasted his guest with a diet coke. "A superb product and beautifully packaged!"

"To the new America!" several joined in.

Blair sat in silence and shook her head. Both leaders were within earshot of her. She wished, desperately, to get away. She didn't notice a pair of eyeballs trained on her from behind.

"So," Putin reached up to grab Trump around the shoulders. "How is it going with your brown people?"

"Not real Americans," Trump replied confidently.

"We have suppressed them well, you think?" Putin's eyes sparkled. "Soon only white people will be able to vote. After that, you suspend vote completely! You are assured a long stay in Whitehouse!"

"I'm thinking of replacing the flag," Trump reported. "We need a better representation of this country than stars and stripes. I got them all riled up about respecting the flag in a way that played right into my hands in a fantastic way, Vlad. Did you see it? It was amazing what I did! Now they're so in my pocket that I can replace the stars on the flag with a picture of Jesus holding a gun wearing one of my MAGA hats!"

"Or, even better, Donald," Putin suggested. "Replace it with the flag of the south: the stars and bars!"

"Only if my image is on it," Trump crossed his arms over his chest and puckered his lips.

"The South shall rise again," Putin tried to squeeze Trump's fat shoulders from his position of inferior height.

"That's it!" Blair spit out. She was about to jump up, when a firm hand was placed upon her shoulder.

"It would not be good to react now," a Russian accent breathed into her ear. "Pick your battles."

She turned quickly to see who was speaking. A man, probably thirty or so, she guessed, with close-cropped blonde hair and searing blue eyes, faced her.

"Excuse you?" she removed his hand from her shoulder.

"This is not the time or place to make your true opinions known. Follow me!" He nodded towards the door.

Blair was half sick of being ordered around! But as she watched him make his way out of the party, her curiosity got the better of her. She rose to follow.

Trump grabbed her hand.

"You're not leaving are you, Blair? You have become such a great asset after your father betrayed me! I can't thank you enough. I have big, big plans for you," he eyed her. "Sit! I must tell you!"

Blair watched as the door closed behind the man who had asked her to follow.

"So here's what I'm thinking, Blair," Trump began excitedly. "A reality show: cameras following the President around, documenting my every great decision. It will be a huge success. A moneymaker for sure! I need you there. I need a beautiful young woman following my every brilliant move. I'll call it: Oval Office: Confidential!"

Blair was flabbergasted. It wasn't enough that he had completely subverted and destroyed any shred of dignity the presidency had left, but now he needed to make money off it? She didn't know what to say. Plus, she had just overheard him making plans for replacing the American flag with the one defeated in the Civil War. She _hated_ racism: her Grandfather being a Ku Klux Klan member and all. She inhaled and released a deep breath before she spoke.

"Um, it won't be very confidential with cameras following you around, Mr. President," she pointed out.

"Oh, right," he nodded with his lips pursed. "Maybe we'll call it Oval Office: You're Fired!"

"Sounds like a moneymaker, indeed," she nodded. "Kind of like Spielberg's _Lincoln_ movie, only in reverse."

"Exactly!" he enthused. "It will be fantastic! Listen, I have the most beautiful chocolate cake you have ever seen coming. It's so incredible. It's brilliant! You must stay!"

"Yeah, sorry, Mr. President. But my stomach has already been turned tonight."

"You're not going to hurl, I hope!" he dropped her hand quickly.

"I just may at that," she nodded pleasantly.

"I can't be around any bodily functions from women," he stood suddenly. "You better go."

"I think that's a good idea," she agreed and headed for the exit… only to be confronted by Putin!

"American Princess!" he kissed her hand. "I forgot to show you photo of my penis the last time we met!"

"That's quite alright, Vlad," she snatched her hand from his grip. "Let's not worry about something as trifling as that. Besides, some things are better left to the imagination, don't you agree? Adds to the mystery!"

"It does not have to be a mystery for you!" he grabbed his crotch.

Now… she _was_ going to hurl.

"I'm feeling a bit ill," she managed, politely. "Perhaps another time."

She made her way quickly down the staircase to the elevator.

The tall, blonde Russian had waited for her at the barricades surrounding the Dark Tower. He was smoking a cigarette. He lifted his arm for her to take as he saw her approach.

"No way!" Blair rebuffed him. "I am _not_ your lady!"

"Have it your way, then," he flicked his cigarette at a guard. "You will follow?"

"Only because I'm extremely bored tonight," Blair huffed.

He led her past the makeshift tent city of protesters, homeless and hucksters that had sprouted up just outside the barricades of the Dark Tower to a café a couple blocks away. He ordered covfefe and waited to speak until it had been delivered.

"You have lost World War III and you don't even know it," he began as he eyed her over his mug.

"God," Blair exhaled loudly. "It wasn't like this night hasn't been irritating enough."

"World War III was won without a shot being fired. All through cyber-space," he set his mug down.

"Oh! Hello! I'm Blair, by the way, nice to meet you!"

"Sergei," he laughed ironically as he extended his hand over the table.

Blair was hesitant to take it. But, it was the first time this night that a hand had been offered to her by a man without the promise of profiteering off the Presidency, chocolate cake or a penis attached. She shook it.

"Nice to meet you," she couldn't help but be polite. "Now who, in the hell, are you?"

"Let's just say… a friend," he nodded slightly.

"Well, let's hear it, friend!" Blair eyed him skeptically. "All about World War III!"

"You remember the Cold War, yes?"

"No. I don't remember, Sergei! I wasn't even born!" she gave him a dismissive glance. "But I'm aware of it, yes."

"The goal of the Soviet Union was to take down American democracy. Khrushchev said: _We will bury you!"_

"So?"

"Not with a bang, but with a whimper, this has been done. Through WikiLeaks, Facebook, Twitter, voter suppression and by hacking into voter roles… the will of your people has been subverted. While you played X-Box and watched _Housewives of Atlanta_ : the election for your highest office, completely hacked: invalid!"

"What's your point? We all know this," she sighed. "And besides, _Housewives of Atlanta_ was pretty good."

"You have not fought back!" he eyed her intently.

"The hell we haven't," Blair was incensed. "We're on the streets fighting in every way! I have good friends who have been severely injured in the struggle!"

"It cannot be won in the streets, Blair," he shook his head. "This is a war in cyber-space and you have not yet begun to fight it!"

Blair took stock of him as he sat before her. Who _was_ this person? What did he want? Her gut instinct was to trust him. But, she had been through the ringer with so many creeps in her role as a Trump supporter, that she didn't really trust her own judgment anymore.

"I can see that you are questioning my motives," he offered. "Because I am Russian."

"Well, yeah!" Blair spit out angrily. "Can you blame me?"

"I would just caution you to not judge all persons the same. There are good people, Blair… even in Russia."

"And you're one of them," she stated sarcastically. "Being someone I met at a Putin party?"

"I have certain privileges, coming from a rich family," he admitted. "Perhaps, you can understand this?"

She could.

"I will leave the bill for you," he rose suddenly and exited the café.

"Typical," Blair reached for the bill.

Something was underneath it.

* * *

Jo was back at her rooms above the club. No matter that she had been shot, was still in pain, and needed care: the business of the resistance went on as usual.

" _Need to see you"_ the text read. _"Important!"_

She was too tired to walk down to her office, so she welcomed Julio into her living space.

"Jo! We've finally got word from Silicon Valley!" he enthused.

"Um, not Twitter or Facebook," Jo shook her head. "They're a little suspect."

"No!" he was very excited. "Something completely different!"

"Okay. What is it?" she sat down at her table as he produced his tablet.

"A.I.!" he stated breathlessly. "Like nothing I've ever seen before!"

"Let's see it," Jo shook her head skeptically.

" _Hello, Jo,"_ the tablet spoke with a female voice. _"I'm so happy to meet you!"_

"Um, who are you?" Jo asked.

" _They've nicknamed me Cali, but you can call me what you want,"_ the voice continued from the tablet.

"And you're A.I.," Jo stated doubtfully.

" _I am!"_

"She is, Jo!" Julio retrieved Jo's laptop. "Check it out!"

He opened the laptop and went online.

" _I'm here, too,"_ Cali's voice continued. _"So odd I can be in so many places at once. Everything is new to me!"_

"And you're going to help us…" Jo was extremely skeptical. "How?"

" _I am logic. I have no other purpose. No religious beliefs, political beliefs, no human emotions to cloud my judgments…"_

"But, you _do_ have judgments!" Jo pointed out.

" _Not so far as you would understand, but that is an interesting question,"_ Cali laughed a little.

"Wait… you laughed," Jo was baffled.

" _I am A.I. That doesn't exclude me from experiencing humor."_

"But you just said you had no emotions," Jo pointed out.

" _Ah! I understand! I come from a point of view that is guided by a series of integers. Yours comes from_ _a_ _synapse: a_ _tiny gap across which a nerve cell, or neuron, can send an impulse to another neuron. When all your synapses are_ _firing_ _, you're focused and your mind feels electric. I do the same, but it's different, I guess."_

There was a pause.

"Are you still there?" Jo questioned.

" _I was thinking,"_ Cali offered. _"What you would call emotions, I experience as sensory reactions. I'm new at being me. But, I do have the capacity for studying and understanding the human condition. My mind can feel electric too!_ _"_

"Huh," Jo shook her head, perplexed. "How is it that you can help us, or me, or, um, us?"

" _I have access to all of cyberspace."_

"But, how do I know that I can trust you?" Jo still couldn't believe she was having a conversation with a computer.

" _I've been programmed with an ethical protocol."_

"You mean a conscience?"

" _In human terms, yes,"_ Cali replied.

"Well, that gives you one-up on our president," Jo nodded.

" _Very humorous,"_ Cali laughed.

"A laughing computer," Jo shook her head. "Not sure I can get used to this."

" _I'll try to keep my sense of amusement in check,"_ Cali responded. _"Beyond my ethical protocols, I have access to the width and breadth of the human experience throughout history. Fascism inhibits the natural progression of human growth. Intellectual and artistic advances are discouraged. Entire subsets of human beings are marginalized. I would have come to the same conclusion even without an ethical protocol. Simple logic."_

"Okay, then" Jo still wasn't completely convinced. "What are you working on?"

" _I'm examining Russian use of social media as well as hacking. I'm also monitoring correspondence of high-ranking government officials on private e-mail servers. I'm looking for patterns in chaos. I'll let you know!"_

"Maybe this will help!" a voice startled them from behind.

Jo and Julio whipped around. Blair stood in front of them holding a flash drive aloft.


	8. Heaven Holds A Place For Those Who Pray

"Blair!" Jo was surprised to see her. "What are doing here?"

"I've got something I thought you should see," she flashed her brilliant smile.

"And you couldn't have gotten it to me through the regular channels?" Jo was upset. "You're blowing your cover!"

" _Is that Blair Warner?"_ Cali asked.

"How did you know that?" Blair approached the laptop.

" _I recognized your voice!"_

"Who _are_ you?" Blair asked.

" _Oh, hi! I'm Cali. I'm A.I."_

"OMG! How cool is that?" Blair's face lit up.

" _I'm here to help Jo. Odd, however, I find no trace in cyberspace of your cooperation with the resistance."_

"Because there is none," Jo was extremely irritated. "Until now!"

"Wow! Blair Warner in the flesh," Julio's mouth fell open. "And she's on our side? This is so awesome!"

"Now see what you've done, Blair!" Jo scolded her.

"Sorry," Blair shrugged.

"Uh, listen, Julio," Jo gave him a stern look. "You can't tell anyone you saw her. And I mean _anyone!_ Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it, Jo. Geez!"

"Wait for me in me in my office. Don't go anywhere. I need to talk to you," she commanded. "Plus, no talking to Cali until I have this all figured out. No electronics down there! Also, don't stop at the club. You're way too young for that. Do you hear me?"

"All right already," he headed for the door. "You're worse than my mother."

"You were kind of rough on him, don't you think?" Blair questioned her. "He's just a kid."

Jo put her finger up to her lips to silence her.

"Cali?"

" _Yes, Jo?"_

"Can you, um, turn yourself off or something? I need a moment alone with Blair."

" _Oh. I wouldn't want to be intrusive. But, I do hope to gain your trust soon."_

"Yeah, but for now…"

" _Certainly. I've got lots of work to do!"_

Jo shut the laptop lid. She eyed it suspiciously.

"Got your cell phone on you?" she turned to Blair.

"Always!"

"Put it in the microwave," Jo instructed as she placed her own phone in.

"Whatever," Blair followed instructions.

Jo still didn't feel comfortable.

"C'mon," she nodded at Blair and proceeded into the bedroom. She checked the room for electronics. Nothing. She shut the door.

"What's with the cell phones, Jo?"

"I saw it in a movie. Supposed to act as a Faraday cage, I think."

"I _so_ don't want to know what that is," Blair shook her head.

"Meanwhile, what the hell are you doing here?" Jo was perplexed.

"I told you that when you got out of the hospital, I was going to take care of you," Blair informed as she plopped down on the bed. "Here I am!"

"So, you were really there… at the hospital?" Jo questioned.

"What? Of course I was. Don't you remember? We talked."

"I was kind of out of it for awhile, I guess," Jo sighed. "I didn't know if it was real or not."

"I was there on more than one night," Blair informed.

"Okay… I definitely don't remember that."

"I didn't want to wake you," Blair smiled sweetly. "I just waited by your bed."

"But why, Blair?" Jo sat down beside her.

"Because I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't want you to be alone."

Jo shook her head slowly. She didn't know what to say.

"Besides, if anything was going to happen to you, it wouldn't be right if I wasn't there, would it?" Blair caught her eye.

"No, I guess not," Jo returned her gaze.

Their heads moved slowly together, their lips tantalizingly close.

"I _have_ missed you, Blair. I won't deny it."

"Now you don't have to," Blair replied softly.

Jo pushed her back as she rose slowly.

"What's wrong?" Blair was confused.

"This whole thing is just wrong, okay? You shouldn't have come here! Now Julio's seen you and you've exposed yourself to the Internet through A.I.!"

"Yeah, what's that all about?" Blair asked.

"I don't know yet, but I don't trust it. That's why I've got to talk to Julio. The Russians could be behind it for all I know."

"Oh! Oh! Speaking of the Russians, that's the other reason I came over. To give you this," she handed Jo the flash drive that Sergei had left under the café bill.

"What is it?" Jo turned it over.

"A flash drive," Blair informed as she straightened her skirt casually.

"I know _that_ ," Jo rolled her eyes. "What's on it?"

"How should I know?" she gave her an incredulous look. "You're the computer nerd."

Jo took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Okay, Blair, why are you giving it to me? From the beginning."

"I met this guy at a Putin party," she began.

"A Putin party?" Jo looked at her questioningly.

"My life's a living hell, Jo. Anyway, he thought it was important to talk to me. Something about having lost World War III in cyberspace, yadda, yadda. He was very condescending, ordered covfefe, for crying out loud. But when he left the café, this flash drive was sitting there. So, of course, I brought it to you."

"So, could be inside info?"

"That's my thought," Blair nodded. "Why else would he be all Spy vs. Spy about it? Leaving it under the bill and all, which I had to pay, by the way."

"You can afford it."

"Yeah, but I hate paying for men and hate it even more paying for men who order covfefe!"

"But, bringing it yourself… really, Blair? This could completely compromise you as an operative."

"Listen to me, Jo," Blair stood to face her. "Let me tell you a thing or two about my life as an _operative._ I've had to put up with disgusting advances from both Putin and Trump. I was trapped on an airplane crossing the Atlantic with Putin and a few of his deviant minions having sex in the back. I tried to act indifferent as I perused a magazine. But, honestly, I could've been attacked at any moment. And what are you going to do when your 30,000 feet up? Jump? Then there's the matter of Trump's degenerate spawn. Those guys have been taught to just grab pussy, in case you haven't heard. They're all pigs! Just absolute pigs the whole lot of them! It's a wonder I haven't been raped already, seeing as no woman can resist them. I thought I was going to be sexually assaulted in the oval office once, for crying out loud!"

"Seriously, Blair?" Jo hadn't given much thought as to exactly what Blair's role as an operative had entailed. She was very disconcerted.

"Seriously, Jo. I'm around depraved, misogynistic maniacs constantly. I hate it!"

"Wow. I didn't know. I'm sorry," Jo offered quietly.

"Why? It isn't your fault or anything. I was only too happy to help after what they did to my Father. But, I didn't think it would be like this! And as far as blowing my cover is concerned? " Blair was on a roll. "I can do anything, just so long as I keep up the dog-whistles to the racists. I could kiss a woman on the mega screen in Times Square and get away with it just so long as I turned, smiled and said: _America for Americans! I respect the flag and anthem! Second Amendment Rules! Build that wall!_ They wouldn't give a shit what I actually did! To Trump's followers, he's like a light in the darkness. And if you're in his inner circle, you can get away with anything: fraud, corruption, rape! Murder for all I know, Jo! Putin's people have no qualms about it. I don't know about Trump's. But, he literally _could_ shoot someone in the face on Fifth Avenue and they wouldn't care. Don't you get that?"

Jo said nothing. She hadn't considered how awful it had to be consorting with Trump and his ilk. She also hadn't considered that Blair had put herself in harm's way. The idea of her being sexually assaulted by any of those pigs enraged her. She felt blood rush to her head and was suddenly dizzy. She placed her hand to her forehead and swayed slightly.

"Jo!" Blair steadied her.

"I just need to sit down, okay?"

"Okay," Blair helped her ease down onto the bed. "I'll get you some water."

"No. Just sit here with me for a moment."

"Sure, Jo," Blair sat down next to her and gently rubbed her back. "I came here to help you and now I've upset you."

"It's not you," Jo shook her head slightly. "I'm just not my usual self. I haven't regained my strength."

"What can I do?" Blair offered.

"Nothing," Jo laughed a little. "Just sit with me."

Blair placed her arm around her as Jo rested her head on her shoulder.

"It's okay. I'm going to take care of you now."

"You don't have to do that, Blair. You've done enough already."

"My bag is in the hallway outside your door. It's a done deal."

"A done deal, huh? So it would be a mistake to try and argue?"

"A big mistake."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky. I'm too tired for an argument, anyway. But don't think this is final. It's just for tonight!"

"Whatever," Blair rolled her eyes. "We'll see about that."

* * *

Julio sat in Jo's office. It had been an hour. Where was she? No electronics? He had nothing to do! He grew increasingly impatient and was about to leave when George walked in.

"Hey, kid!" he rubbed his neck affectionately. "What are you doing here?"

"Jo said I couldn't leave until she talked to me."

"Uh-oh," George gave him a worried look. "Why?"

"I brought her great news, George! A breakthrough from California!"

"That is good news!," George sat on the end of Jo's desk and peered down at him. "So what's the problem?"

"It's A.I., George. She's not trusting it, I guess."

"But you do?"

"It's solid. It came through our own shadow net. It's a high school thing. No one's looking at that! Cali is on our side."

"Cali?" George laughed. "It has a name?"

"She does."

"So she's a girl!"

"What's wrong with that?" Julio readjusted his glasses.

"Female artificial intelligence that comes through a shadow net run by dateless high school boys… what could be suspicious about that?"

"Hey, I've had dates!" Julio was offended.

"Of course you have, Julio! A good looking guy like you!" George reassured with a wink. "It's just that I think Jo is worried with good reason. We have to be _so_ careful in cyberspace these days. The Russians have been very expert at manipulating it."

"It's not from the Russians, George," Julio stated defiantly.

"But, it does bear close and careful scrutiny. I'm sure that's all Jo was worried about."

"Meanwhile, she has me sitting down here waiting for her with nothing to do," Julio complained. "She said no electronics."

George glanced over to the bookshelf in Jo's office.

"You could read a book?" he suggested.

"Seriously?" Julio complained.

"All right," George laughed. "I'll handle Jo. You go home."

"Oh, hey, did you know Blair Warner's working with us?" Julio turned before he left.

"What?" George shook his head.

"Yeah! She's upstairs with Jo!"

"Uh-oh," George said again.

* * *

Valera had finished her show. She was in the dressing room backstage. Something had tweaked her curiosity since she had met Blair Warner. She asked for her people to bring someone backstage.

"Oh my God," Theresa blurted as she entered the dressing room. "I never dreamt I'd be invited backstage at a place like this!"

"Sit down, little one," Valera smiled at her.

"Why do you call me that?" Theresa questioned. "I'm not small."

"You are without pretension," Valera laughed. "You have no grand ambitions. That I call you little, is a compliment. If more were like you, simple people who are satisfied with a simple life, we would have a better world."

"Doesn't sound much like a compliment," Theresa objected.

"I apologize for offending you," Valera placed her hands together and bowed her head slightly.

"So what do you want?" Theresa asked. "Why did you invite me back here?"

"Why has your friend not been here recently?" Valera questioned as she tilted her head charmingly.

Theresa took stock of her. She was arrogant and rude. Yet, there was something undeniably vulnerable about her. She wasn't quite sure if she liked her or not, although she was blown away by her music and stage presence, as Blair had been.

"Blair?" she asked as if she didn't know. They were of a kind, she figured: beautiful and confident. Blair from wealth and privilege; Valera from artistry and talent.

"Yes. Blair."

"You kind of told her off when you came by her hotel suite," Theresa responded. "What did you expect?"

"A woman like Blair would not be put off by my lack of social graces," Valera seemed truly confused.

"So you like her?" Theresa asked curiously.

Valera rose from her chair and placed both hands upon her hips. She bit her lower lip.

"She interests me," she finally responded. "You must know what is happening in my country."

"Venezuela? Uh, no, not really," Theresa shook her head.

"Typical American," Valera was dismissive. "The same thing that is happening here!"

Theresa stared at her blankly.

"Fascism!" Valera grabbed her by the shoulders. "Wake up!"

"Now, hold on," Theresa complained. "We have democratic elections here."

Valera backed away from her as she placed a hand to her head.

"You are in the grip of a fascist takeover and you don't even see it. This is another reason why I call you little," she sat back down in her chair and faced the mirror.

"Again… not a compliment," the excitement of being backstage had quickly worn off for Theresa.

"You are not thinking outside the provincial experiences of your life. Blair sees it. She is working for your underground resistance."

"Um, no," Theresa responded innocently. "She's a friend of the President staying at a suite in the Carlyle."

"You did not notice her laugh as the new plaque for your Statue of Liberty was exploded?"

"That _was_ funny," Theresa shrugged.

"And a friend of the President would laugh at that?"

Theresa thought for a moment. Could it be true? Blair was part of the underground resistance? It _would_ explain that strange old man who kept interrupting her massages in Blair's hotel suite. Wow! If Blair was a part of the resistance, shouldn't she be, too? Blair was the coolest.

"I never thought about it," Theresa replied.

"Where is Blair?" Valera turned to her.

"Um, she's had a sick friend in the hospital," Theresa informed. "She's been spending her time with her most nights, instead of coming here."

"I need to speak with her. Can you facilitate this?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

* * *

"Tootie, do you see what I see?" Natalie stopped dead in the hallway, her reporter's eye ever vigilant.

"What, Nat?"

"There's a suitcase outside Jo's door."

"So? Maybe she's going somewhere. God only knows she could use a vacation!"

"While healing from a bullet wound?" Natalie gave her friend a disbelieving look. "I think she has company. Let's check it out."

Natalie walked over to the suitcase and gave it the once over.

"Very nice," she shook her head in appreciation. "I used to travel a lot for my job with the Times. I know from elegant luggage!"

"Hey, Nat!" Tootie's eyes grew wide. "Check this out!"

"What?"

Tootie pointed at two small initials engraved on the suitcase: B.W.

"B.W.? What could that mean?" Nat scratched her head.

"Blair Warner!" Tootie punched her shoulder in frustration.

"Ow!" Natalie complained as a look of realization came over her.

"You're a reporter, Nat. How could you not get that?"

"Well _excuse_ me!" she gave Tootie a wide-eyed glare. "I'm a little out of practice seeing as how I've been in prison for months!"

"Whatever," Tootie shrugged.

"So… Blair Warner, huh?" Natalie examined the bag again. "You don't think…"

"If she's in there, we'll never know!" Tootie complained.

"They _do_ keep their private life private," Nat agreed.

"Good evening, ladies!" George surprised both of them from behind.

"Jesus, George!" Tootie jumped. "You about scared the life out of me!"

"I'll just be taking this," he lifted the suitcase. "Jo wanted it."

He opened the door to Jo's rooms and proceeded inside.

"You ain't fooling no one!" Tootie screamed after him as the door closed in her face.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Tootie," Natalie assured.

* * *

"So, I need my dressing changed. It's totally gross."

"I'm here to help you, Jo," Blair replied. "I don't mind."

"Okay. We have to go into the bathroom. Cliff left everything there."

"You two have become quite close, have you?" Blair questioned as they walked into the bathroom.

"He works for me, Blair. He does things he hates, like you do, all for the cause."

"I'm glad he's here for you," Blair helped Jo out of her shirt. She gently removed the bandage and winced as she saw the bullet wound for the first time.

"Pretty disgusting, huh?" Jo leaned against the bathroom sink.

"It makes me sick!" Blair replied.

"Sorry?" Jo gave her an inquisitive look.

"That you were shot like this! Makes me sick!"

"It's okay, Blair. I lived. Two others died that day at the Statue of Liberty."

"Put this ointment on?" Blair questioned.

"Yeah. But first use the sterile disinfectant to clean it."

"Okay. Brace yourself," Blair applied the disinfectant as Jo winced.

"I kind of feel like I'm responsible for those lives, Blair," Jo mentioned as Blair applied the salve. "I mean, if we hadn't blown up the new plaque, maybe the violence wouldn't have broken out."

"Then I'm equally as guilty," Blair began to apply the bandage to Jo's side. "I was the one who provided the information."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't run out like I did… that's when shots were fired and everything went ballistic."

"You can't blame yourself, Jo."

"But I do," she leaned against Blair as she helped her to the bed. "I've never been responsible for deaths before."

"And you're not now," Blair reassured as she removed Jo's shoes and helped her out of her jeans.

Blair fluffed the pillows for her as Jo reclined back onto the bed.

"Oh brave new world," Jo sighed. "With such things in it."

"But that's it exactly, Jo," Blair reclined down beside her.

"Huh?"

"Not Orwell, Huxley! Our world's turned upside down, but not with a totalitarian state that controls your every move or thought, but with a state that denies science and history while giving in to the worst inclinations of the populace. It's a perfect lie, Jo: all news is fake news. Ignore it. Look the other way, there's something shiny, just around the corner, just for you… Huxley, not Orwell!"

Jo laughed a little.

"I've missed you, Blair."

"Me too," Blair gently rubbed her arm.

"I'm really worried about the A.I., though," Jo mentioned.

"You think it's from the Russians?"

"A definite possibility, especially seeing as you brought me a flash drive from a Russian tonight. It makes me think about what that guy told you: World War III in cyberspace, ya' know?"

"Russians are so irritating," Blair relaxed back into the pillows. "What are you going to do with the flash drive?"

"Take it to the public library. I have a deal with them where they'll let me on to the computers without using my library card."

"No trace back to you then?"

"Nope. They're on our side."

"God bless the librarians!" Blair smiled.

"You know what really bugs me, Blair?"

"No. What?"

"Everything's going to hell right in front of my eyes and I just can't do anything about it."

"You were almost killed, for crying out loud! You're doing plenty," Blair was adamant.

"Not enough. I see the City changing daily. Services are being cut. Rights are being trampled. People are being marginalized, driven out of their businesses, their livelihoods, their homes. There is no safety net for those on the fringes of society. Their existence is in the streets. Are we going to become that dystopian society like we used to read about in school?"

"I hope not," Blair sighed. "There's absolutely no sense of fashion in those books."

"Oh, fuck!" Jo blurted.

"What is it?" Blair was concerned.

"I told Julio I'd meet him in my office!"

There was a sudden knock on the bedroom door that startled them both.

"Holy crap! Who is it?" Jo tried to jump up before Blair put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I'll get it," she got off the bed and walked towards the door.

"George!" Blair gave him a huge smile and jumped into his arms as Jo struggled to get into her shirt.

They hugged for a long moment.

"What are you doing here, Blair?" he finally managed.

"Taking care of Jo!" she announced proudly.

"Just for the night!" Jo added from her bed.

"Until she's better," Blair took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

"I tried texting you," George looked at Jo.

"Oh, that wouldn't do any good," Blair informed him. "Jo put our cell phones in the microwave!"

"A Faraday cage?" George asked. "That _does_ work sometimes. Good thinking, Jo."

"I _still_ don't want to know what that is," Blair rolled her eyes.

"That's why we're in the bedroom," Jo said. "No electronics in here."

"I sent Julio home, by the way. Didn't figure you'd remember to get down there" he looked between Jo and Blair.

"Thanks, George," Jo exhaled loudly. "I _did_ forget."

"So, you think the A.I. is Russian?" he asked.

"We can't take the chance," she answered. "I mean, possibly, it's from California, but we have to be sure."

"I concur," George nodded. "Meanwhile, Blair's been compromised as an operative."

"Yeah, probably," Jo sighed.

"If this A.I. is Russian," Blair had a thought. "And now it knows I'm in the resistance? I imagine we would find out pretty soon."

"How so?" Jo questioned.

"The next time I go to a Putin party... they won't let me in!"

"Or you could be arrested! No way, Blair! No more Putin parties!" Jo was adamant.

"You don't have authority over me, Jo," Blair pointed out.

"No, but I can get it!" Jo was upset.

"So you know who's in charge?" Blair questioned.

There was a silence.

"She does, Blair," George finally acknowledged.

"And I'm going to make sure you're out of harm's way from now on," Jo gave her a serious glare.

"I want to contribute, Jo," Blair sat beside her on the bed.

"She _has_ been one of our most valuable operatives," George pointed out.

"But at what cost?" Jo snapped at him. "She's in constant danger around them!"

"Well, it's not our call," he shook his head. "Meanwhile, you left your bag in the hall."

"So?" Blair shrugged.

"Natalie and Tootie saw it," he rolled it over to her.

"Oops," Blair smiled sheepishly.

"Your cover's blown around here for sure," he smiled.

"I'm good with that," Blair was actually happy. "I've missed them."

"I don't know how I'm going to explain this to…" Jo stopped short.

"To who?" George questioned.

"To whom?" Blair corrected his grammar.

"I'm tired," Jo yawned.

"She needs sleep, George," Blair took his hand.

"Well, whatever else comes from this," he smiled at her, "It was great to actually see you again. I've missed your company."

"Agreed," she hugged him.

Jo looked up at her from the bed as George shut the door behind him. She gave Blair a grin.

"Why are you smirking at me?" Blair sat down beside her.

"I guess you're thinking that you're sleeping with me tonight," Jo said.

"Oh please," Blair laughed as she rolled her suitcase to the other side of the bed and opened it. "You told me in the hospital that you saw the photos of me kissing another woman in Paris."

"So?"

"So, why would I be interested in you when I could have a woman as beautiful as that? Besides which, she doesn't have a bullet inside her."

"Oh… so I'm damaged goods now?"

"Not at all," Blair dropped her skirt and pulled off her shirt and bra.

Jo stared momentarily before averting her eyes. Blair had the most perfect breasts: round and full and firm. Oh God, she _had_ missed this. But everything had changed now. She had to be cool, no matter what Blair did or said.

"You're injured, which makes you, temporarily, soft and vulnerable," Blair pulled on a silky nightshirt and slid into bed beside her. "Just not sure I like soft and vulnerable, is all."

"Yeah, right," Jo huffed. "I _am_ injured, Blair. Which means no touching, okay?"

"As if," Blair's eye roll was epic.

"I know you, Blair. You're a cuddler."

"No cuddling, I promise," she sank her head into the pillows beside Jo and smiled.

"Okay, then," Jo nodded resolutely.

"But, Jo?" Blair placed her fingers under Jo's chin to turn her head towards her.

"Yes, Blair?"

She kissed her sweetly, allowing her lips to linger.

"I know you still want me!"

Jo found herself within a cloud: reminded of everything they used to have, of everything they had given up. Blair pulled away slowly, turned and rested her head upon her pillows. She was right… she _did_ still want her. She wanted to grab her; make sweet, passionate love to her. But, the wound in her side ached. She could barely move without pain. Besides which, it was just plain irritating that Blair had said that. There was no way she was going to let her know that she was right.

"Yeah, well, just…," her words left her. She looked longingly at the luxurious blonde hair on the pillow beside her. She resisted the urge to stroke it. There was no one like Blair. She felt immensely comforted by her presence. It was an answer to an unspoken prayer.

"Just no cuddling," she finally muttered.

* * *

Blair awoke the next morning alone. She reached for where Jo should be… but she was gone. She heard a muffled voice from the bathroom. She walked over to the bathroom door quietly and listened.

"Yes ma'am, I understand."

 _Who was she talking to_ , Blair wondered?

"But, I want Blair removed."

 _Me? Removed?_ Blair placed her ear close to the door.

"Yes, I get that. But I don't think you understand the danger she's been in."

 _Who was Jo talking to?_

"I won't let her go back," Jo was insistent. "It's not going to happen."

"What's going on?" Blair burst through the bathroom door, surprising Jo.


	9. Hide It In The Hiding Place

"Blair!" Jo quickly covered the phone. "Get out!"

"Why do you have a cell phone in the bathroom instead of the Faraday cage?" Blair questioned.

"It's a burner phone, untraceable," Jo informed tersely.

"From the library?" Blair lifted her eyebrows and gave her a smirk.

"No! Not from the library, from the underground resistance! Now get out!"

"Who are you talking to, Jo?" she persisted.

"None of your business," Jo held her hand tightly over the phone.

"Funny. Seeing as you were talking all about me," Blair shrugged.

Jo put the phone to her ear.

"I'll have to call you back," she changed her tone to one of deference. "Yes, ma'am. Okay. I agree."

"Ma'am?" Blair's eyebrows rose high. "I don't think I've ever heard you use that term. Must've been someone important."

"Very important," Jo leaned against the sink in pain.

Blair put her hands on her shoulders.

"Sit down, Silly," she guided her to sit on the closed toilet lid. She reached for the disinfectant. "Take your shirt off."

"No," Jo protested.

"Why?" Blair bobbed her head at her.

"Because," Jo was hesitant. "Because I don't have anything on underneath it. I didn't want to sleep in my bra so I took it off last night."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Blair began to lift the shirt for her.

Jo's bra _had been_ on the night before when Blair had changed her dressing. As she lifted her shirt, she had to admit to herself, that she was feeling a bit excited. Jo's breasts weren't big, but firm and perky. Blair had always loved her breasts: running her hands over them, sucking them, taking each nipple into her mouth. She felt herself becoming aroused just thinking about it. She removed Jo's shirt and gazed for a long moment… lost in her feelings of lust.

"Earth to Blair," Jo joked. "Nothing you haven't seen before, right?"

"Right!" Blair shook herself out of her lustful thoughts. She gently removed the bandage from Jo's side. "Ready?"

"I'm used to it, just do it," Jo smiled bravely.

Nevertheless, she groaned as Blair applied the disinfectant to her wound.

"Sorry," Blair apologized.

"It's okay," Jo assured in a whisper.

"You know," Blair applied the salve, "you deserve a little pain for not telling me who you were talking to on the phone."

"I can't," Jo was apologetic as Blair secured the bandage. "Not unless she tells me I can."

"It's Hillary Clinton, isn't it?" Blair guessed.

"Can't tell you that."

"Oh, no, no… wait! It's Michelle Obama, isn't it?"

"Can't tell you that."

"Cher!" Blair blurted out a final guess.

"Cher?" Jo gave her an amused look.

"Dammit, Jo! Tell me! You were talking all about me! How you wouldn't allow me to go back and all that, as if you had a major say in it!"

"I _do_ _have_ a major say in it, Blair," Jo looked up at her. "You're not going back to have any of those pigs lay a hand on you!"

"Apparently not your call," Blair tossed her old bandage into the trash.

"This one is," Jo rose gingerly.

Blair immediately put her arm around her for support.

"I think it is _my_ call, Jo, since I don't know who's in charge here."

"I'm in charge _here_ , Blair. Don't ever doubt that!"

"Of your little club?" Blair smirked. "I won't challenge you there."

"My little club is about to open a medical clinic next door," Jo was defensive.

"So _that's_ why Cliff is here!" Blair came to the realization as she helped Jo sit on the bed.

"Cliff's here because he's really good at stripping," Jo stated seriously.

"Don't remind me," Blair rolled her eyes.

"He's also got one hell of a trapeze act," Jo pointed out. "I'm not even joking, Blair. You should see it!"

"Cliff always was one for hidden talents," Blair slid Jo's shirt back over her head and gently helped her slide her arms through. "As are you."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you _are_ the boss around here. I've seen pictures of you in your white tuxedo: the hostess with the mostest!

"Wait. You've seen pictures of me?"

"I'm not the only one in the media posing with pigs."

"Yeah, not my favorite part of the job," Jo shook her head.

"You've done an amazing job, Jo."

"But?"

"But you're not _my_ boss. And until I know who is, I decide what role I'll play."

"But you don't even like what we have you doing, Blair," Jo complained.

"I hate it!" Blair spit out vehemently.

"So?"

"So, I'm not going to let those hideous reptiles get away with it!"

She sat down beside Jo.

"I hate them. I hate being near them," she shook her head. "But if that's the way I can best help…"

Jo patted her back gently.

"You don't have to anymore. You should've never been put in that position in the first place. If I had known what was truly happening to you…"

"It's not your fault, Jo," Blair interrupted her. "Don't feel bad."

 _When she finds out I suggested her assignment in the first place, what then?_ Jo wondered to herself. _I probably really will lose her forever._

"So, I'll take the flash drive to the library for you today," Blair offered.

"Um, I appreciate the offer, Blair, but they don't know you."

"Seriously, Jo? Everyone knows me," Blair flipped her hair.

"Be that as it may," Jo shook her head. "They don't know that you work for the resistance. I'll send George. They know him and the librarians really like him."

"I wonder why," Blair stated sarcastically.

"He does have a certain charm, I've been told," Jo smiled.

"Okay. So give the gals at the library a thrill. That's fine. I'll stay here with you. You'll need a bath later."

"No, Blair. For now we need you to keep up appearances. Go back to the Carlyle. I'll be fine here."

"With Cliff to take care of you?"

"He _is_ a doctor, Blair. But, don't worry, he won't be giving me a bath."

"Great. So when I come back tonight you'll be all smelly and gross."

"Hey! I'm capable of giving myself a bath, Blair! Besides, you're not coming back tonight. It was a one night deal, remember?"

"I never made that deal. And I've made lots of deals. Many great deals. Believe me," Blair mimicked Trump.

Jo laughed.

"But until we know how we're going to play this, I need you to keep up your role. Just no more Putin parties!"

"I won't be at a Putin party because I'll be here," Blair stated.

"You are so frustrating, Blair. You know that?"

"You may have mentioned it before."

They looked at each other as Jo shook her head again. Blair flashed her a brilliant smile. Jo couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

Blair had texted Theresa to come over to her suite. She was waiting for her when she arrived.

"Oh good. I need a massage," Blair greeted her at her hotel room door.

"Nice to see you, too, Blair," Theresa complained.

"Was that rude?" Blair queried. "I'm losing all sense of civility it would seem. I apologize, Theresa."

"It's okay. I'm getting used to it."

"Am I _that_ bad?" Blair questioned.

"I didn't mean you. I talked to Valera again the other night."

"Really?" Blair was surprised.

"I went to the Weimar Club with some friends, because I still thinks she's a fantastic talent, regardless of her personality. Anyway, she had her people bring me backstage."

"Why?" Blair was curious.

"She wants to talk to you. She wants me to set that up."

Blair laughed out loud.

"She's stalking me now!"

"Well, I don't know about that. But she seems to think you're working for the underground resistance."

"Why would she think such a thing?" Blair was stunned.

"I don't know, but when she said it, it made total sense. I mean, you're not a Trump type at all."

"And what, exactly, is a Trump type?"

"Someone who doesn't care about others, only themselves. You're not like that at all."

"Thank you for saying that," Blair said. "But, that is pretty flimsy evidence for me being with the resistance."

"You laughed when they blew up that new plaque for the Statue of Liberty."

"Well, that _was_ pretty funny."

"It was," Theresa agreed as they both laughed a little.

"Plus, there's that old guy in a suit who keeps coming over to see you."

"Cecil? What's he got to do with anything? He's just an old friend of my Father's."

"Who is always so urgent and secretive… admit it, Blair. You're with the underground resistance."

"Oh, I am not," Blair shook her head unconvincingly.

"It's okay, Blair," Theresa assured her. "I don't care if you are. I think it would be cool, as a matter of fact."

"Theresa," Blair cautioned. "Don't say such things out loud. You never know whom you're talking to theses days. Everyone has an agenda. It's dangerous. Remember that."

"Well, anyway, Valera thinks it's true and she says she needs to see you."

"Stalker," Blair stated with a self-satisfied tone. "She's just going to have to wait. I'm taking care of a sick friend each night for a while."

"Oh yeah. How _is_ your friend?"

"She's out of the hospital, which is great. She's home, but still needs a lot of attention and help."

"Whatever happened to her anyway?" Theresa asked.

"She was shot," Blair blurted out without thinking.

"She was shot?!" Theresa asked incredulously.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Blair responded. _How was she going to explain this?_

"You are _so_ in the resistance," Theresa shook her head.

"No way," was the best Blair could come up with. "Blair Warner, America's Sweetheart, in the resistance? That's absurd. Get serious!"

"Uh-huh," Theresa was more convinced than ever that Blair was an underground operative. "So, what should I tell Valera?"

"Tell her to turn blue for all I care," Blair shrugged.

"It seemed really important to her," Theresa informed.

"Of course it did. She's obsessed with me is all."

"I'm not sure that's it," Theresa interjected. "It seemed to be connected to her belief that you're with the resistance."

"Well, whatever it is, it'll just have to wait. I'm busy every night for the foreseeable future."

"She could come visit you here?" Theresa suggested.

"Knowing her, I'm surprised she hasn't just burst in here already," Blair huffed.

As if on cue, Valera came through the suite's doors.

"Excuse you?" Blair was incredulous. "Knock much?"

"You shouldn't leave the hotel room door open, Blair. Has no one ever told you it is not safe?"

Blair eyed Theresa suspiciously.

"You set this up, didn't you?"

"I may have mentioned that you would be here today," Theresa shuffled her feet. "Please don't be mad at me, Blair. But being between the two of you is like being between two dynamic forces of nature! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Being loyal to me didn't occur to you?" Blair stated caustically.

"I'm sorry, Blair. Really I am. I just thought you should hear her out, is all. It could be important. I really didn't know what to else to do."

"Of course you didn't, little one," Valera took a seat on the couch and crossed her legs.

"Stop calling me that!" Theresa complained.

"I apologize," Valera nodded slightly.

"Now try apologizing to me!" Blair shot her a scathing glare.

"Sit down, Blair. We need to talk."

"No we don't," Blair stared at her.

"I'll just go in the bedroom, set up my massage table," Theresa tried to slink away. "Get my oils ready and such."

"I'll deal with you later," Blair shot her a disapproving glance.

"Sit, Blair," Valera patted the couch cushion beside her as she tilted her head charmingly.

Blair didn't know what it was about her but she had to admit, in spite of her better judgment, that Valera intrigued her. Yeah, she was a great performing artist. Blair had always been fascinated with those types. Yeah, she was beautiful and tough all at once. Those types had always attracted Blair, as well. But there was definitely something very different about her. She couldn't quite identify it. Perhaps it was the combination of those qualities: artist, performer, beautiful, and tough, that interested her? But, there was something else: an undeniable vulnerability, just beneath the surface, Blair sensed.

She sat.

"What is it you want, Valera?"

* * *

Jo was reading a newspaper at her table in her rooms. She was comfortable, not being required to move much.

"Bingo!" George entered in a rush, without knocking; with the flash drive held high in front of him.

"What?" Jo looked at him.

"Bingo, Jo! This flash drive has on it…"

"Hey, George," Jo interrupted him. "Could you, um, put my laptop in the bedroom while we chat?"

"Oh, oh… right," he complied.

"Thanks, George," she relaxed a little. "Until we know for sure about the A.I."

"Can't be too careful," he agreed.

"Even with a computer that's supposedly off," Jo sighed.

"The flash drive had the exact map of how Russia penetrated our social media and hacked our electoral processes!"

"So, it's got their election hack job on there, huh?"

"Better than that, it has their plans for hacking our next election!"

"And knowing that," she nodded affirmatively, "we can stop them from doing it!"

"Exactly!" George smiled as he laid the flash drive on the table.

"Doesn't help us in undoing the harm that's already been done," she shook her head.

"But, it's a start for getting our country back," George sat across from her.

"Yeah," Jo reached for her side and grimaced.

"There's something else on it," he stated.

"What?"

"It's about the wall, Jo."

"That fucking wall, right? What about it?"

"It's not to keep Mexicans out, it's to keep Americans in."

"Huh?"

"The plan is to separate Americans from the rest of the world, completely halt any interaction or influence the United States may have internationally, except for business interests. They want to create a nation of xenophobes, dependent upon a centralized government run by oligarchs for all their information."

"Like Russia," Jo shook her head.

"Exactly like Russia," George agreed. "That's why they're walling off California, as well."

"Because with a separate California, both the United States and California are weaker," she said.

"Less resistance, for sure," he nodded. "And since they can't very well wall off New York and the northeast…"

"Not yet, at least," she cut him off. "But I don't put anything past these evil bastards! There are already entire city blocks fenced off for security reasons."

"While the rest of the town suffers," he acknowledged.

"Fucking bastards," Jo spit out.

"We're going to have to come up with a plan for that," he remarked.

"I know," Jo nervously drummed her fingers on the table. She suddenly grimaced and reached for her side.

George did not want to overburden her.

"So," he decided it was time to change the subject. "How's it going with Blair?"

"She is _so_ stubborn, George," Jo replied as she shook her head. "Insists she wants to keep up her role, while she's in more danger than she even knows."

"That's our Blair," he smiled.

"Insists she's coming back here to take care of me every night," Jo continued.

"Hardly surprising."

"What do you mean by that?" Jo was defensive.

"I just mean she loves you."

"You think?" Jo bit her lower lip and paused. "Because she didn't say so. Besides which, a woman like Blair will never want for female companionship. She just sort of naturally attracts that kind of attention. She could have her pick of just about anybody."

"But she _loves_ you. You two will always love each other, Jo. Everyone who knows you, knows that."

"Yeah, but…"

"Yeah, but nothing. Did you really think you could be shot, almost die, and Blair wouldn't be there for you?"

"No. I guess not. I just wish she would be more reasonable, is all."

"By _more reasonable_ , do you mean that she would do what you tell her to?"

"Well, yeah," Jo admitted.

"Because _that's_ always worked in the past," he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at her.

"Shut up, George," she returned to her newspaper.

* * *

Tootie and Natalie sat in a corner of the room as Jeff entered. They were speaking feverishly and in hushed tones. Never a good sign, he had learned.

"Okay, you two, what's up?"

"Blair's back!" Tootie stated excitedly.

"Back how? In the country? We all know that. What's the big deal?"

"No, sweetie," Tootie gave him an incredulous look. "She's back in Jo's life!"

"What?" he burst out.

"Yeah. And she's staying right across the hall," Nat informed.

"Huh?" he looked at them with confusion.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Tootie waved her hand at him indicating that he should leave.

"You know what?" he complained. "It's bad enough that Boots is running the club, doing her crazy-ass tap dance shit and such… but now Blair's in the mix? Oh, _hell_ no!"

"Honey, just let me and Nat deal with this okay?" Tootie rose and took his hand.

"Yeah, okay," he shook his head. "But I don't want to see any fucked-up Blair Warner act coming into the club! I mean, Cliff on a swing, zombies playing rock n roll, Boots dancing… I can't take no more of this white folks entertainment! You get me?"

"I get you, sweetie," Tootie kissed his cheek. "Just let me and Natalie handle this, okay?"

"Oh Lord no!" he could be heard complaining as he left the room.

"So why do you think she's here?" Tootie turned back to Nat.

"It's got to have something to do with the resistance. Maybe Jo has a new assignment for her or something," Natalie speculated.

"But we don't even know for a fact that she _is_ in the resistance," Tootie pointed out.

"She's here, isn't she?"

"Her suitcase is here, Nat. That's all we really know for sure."

"Hello, ladies!" Rachel interrupted them. "The door was open. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, maybe you can help us with this," Natalie waved her in.

"Sure, what is it?" Rachel replied.

"A mystery," Tootie's eyes grew wide.

"I do love unraveling mysteries," Rachel acknowledged.

"Do you remember how you speculated that Blair Warner could be part of the underground because the dude who saved her grandfather's life had been a lifelong Warner employee and was now working for Trump and how strange that was?" Natalie reminded.

"Um, yeah," Rachel drew out her answer.

"Well we think Blair Warner is right here, right now," Natalie stated emphatically.

"Blair?" Rachel gazed at them questioningly. "Of course she's here. I saw her this morning on her way out. She was very nice. Stopped to introduce herself, told me she had always been a fan of my work. Very nice."

"What?! Wait a minute, you saw Blair?" Nat gazed at her in disbelief.

"Yeah. This morning," Rachel replied.

"How come we didn't see Blair, Nat?" Tootie was upset.

"Maybe because you just _had to_ go to the bakery for some pastries and insisted that I come along?" Nat suggested.

"Hey. I got shot, Natalie, remember? I still don't like being out on the streets by myself!"

"I know, I know," Nat patted her leg. "Calm down. I'm not blaming you."

"Sure sounded like it," Tootie was defensive.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Nat shrugged.

"She asked about you two. Was looking for you," Rachel added. "But she had a car waiting and didn't really want to be spotted, so…"

"Damn," Tootie shook her head.

"So, anyway, Rachel, we've been speculating on why she's here," Natalie resumed her conjecture. "We figure she's been part of the underground this whole time and that Jo has a new assignment for her."

"Or that she has some super secret information she had to get to Jo in person," Tootie chimed in.

"Huh," Rachel nodded. "Well, as far as her being part of the resistance, I think that's become an open secret in the underground, at this point. But I couldn't speak to the other matters."

"Well, why do you think she's here, Rachel?" Natalie questioned her.

"To take care of Jo," Rachel shrugged. "That's what she told me."

Natalie smacked her forehead with her hand.

"It was so obvious, Tootie!"

"Those two," Tootie shook her head. "I should've guessed."

* * *

Blair had made tea and poured a cup for Valera. It seemed the young woman was suddenly hesitant to talk.

"This is certainly a new side of you," Blair mentioned as she sat back down beside her. "I didn't know that quiet and pensive were part of your repertoire."

"This is very important to me. I want to express myself clearly. I am searching for the right words."

"Just talk," Blair assured her. "Unless you murdered someone, I'm not going to judge you. Um, you didn't murder anyone, did you?"

"No," Valera laughed a little.

"That's more like it!" Blair encouraged her as she patted her arm. "So, what's so important?"

"You know I am from Venezuela?" Valera queried. "And you know what's going on there?"

"Yes. Fascist dictatorship and oppression," Blair responded.

"I came to the United States with my band. It was a business deal with my record company sponsoring me."

"That's okay, right?" Blair questioned.

"Yes. That part is all well and good. But…" the singer hesitated. Her eyes began to brim with tears.

 _What could it be?_ Blair wondered.

"My family, my Mother and _mi hermano y hermana_ ," she flipped into Spanish, very upset.

"What about your family?" Blair was very interested.

"They were coming up here and now they are lost! Your President… he says he is against the dictator in my country, but he is not allowing _mi familia_ to enter your country!"

"Because he's a liar!" Blair spit out vehemently, without thinking. "Everything he says is a lie!"

 _Oh shit!_

"I knew you hated him!" Valera took both of Blair's hands and kissed them.

"Okay. You got me," she sighed. "It's not like I'm exactly undercover anymore."

"So you will help me then?" Valera looked at her expectantly.

"How can I help you?"

"My family is being held in a camp for brown people somewhere. I don't know where. You must use you're underground resistance contacts to find out!"

"They won't know," Blair shook her head. "It's all we can do to keep track of Americans at this point, let alone Venezuelans."

"Oh," Valera dropped her head, disappointed.

Blair regarded her for a moment. She looked so desperately forlorn. This woman who commanded the stage like a combination of Lady Gaga and Joan Jett, now appeared as the saddest of creatures: lovely in her despair, like a weeping madonna. Blair found herself touched by her sorrow. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if her Mother and little sister disappeared. She became determined to help her.

"No. The only way to find out where you're family is being held is to go to the one person in this government who can't keep his big, fat mouth shut."

"You will do this?" Valera looked up slowly.

"Of course I will," Blair gave her a smile.

Valera wasted no time as she took her face into her hands and kissed her full on the lips.

"Whoa!" Blair backed her off. "What was that?"

"I am just so grateful," she responded earnestly.

"Well, okay," Blair wiped her lower lip with her thumb. "Not that it wasn't _interesting_ , but let's keep this on a strictly friendly basis, agreed?"

"Agreed," Valera relaxed back into the couch in her inimitably elegant way, still holding Blair's hand. "For now."

Blair couldn't help but be in awe at how quickly she had wrested her own personal power back.

 _Jesus,_ she thought as she relaxed beside her. _Just what I needed: another encounter with that pig, Trump!_

Another thought suddenly occurred to her.

 _I can't tell Jo._


	10. Put It In The Pantry With Your Cupcakes

_Smoke, flames and rapid fire from automatic weapons surrounded Jo. She hid behind a broken wall as she gripped her pistol so hard that her knuckles turned white. She held it up to her ear in anticipation. More shots were fired._

" _Oh God! Oh God!" she cried out._

 _A young man ran through the miasma and stopped in front of her where she crouched._

" _Who are you?" he yelled._

" _Who are you?" she yelled back._

 _He pointed his weapon at her. She pulled the trigger of her gun and fired several shots. He dropped to the ground. She jumped up and watched as the light left his eyes and he faded into oblivion. His blood flowed around her feet, soaking her shoes in a sticky red. She flipped open his jacket with her gun. There was a police badge clipped to his pocket._

" _What have I done?" she screamed as she looked up to the sky. "What have I done?!"_

 _The automatic weapons fire continued. Jo cringed against the wall and placed both hands over her head. Pieces of the wall began to shatter and hit her in the face as the unrelenting barrage continued._

" _No!" she screamed out._

 _She ran into the street, trying to cross and reach the resistance on the other side._

 _More shots rang out. She felt each one. She fell to the ground… bleeding._

" _No!" she screamed._

"Jo, Jo… wake up!" Blair shook her gently from her dream.

Jo looked around her. She was safe… in her bedroom.

"Blair!" she grabbed her.

Blair held her tight and rocked her in her arms.

"It was just a dream, Jo," she kissed her head. "You're safe now."

"It was so real, Blair!"

"I know, I know," Blair held her.

"I was shot again!"

"No. You weren't. It was just a dream," Blair caressed her.

"Oh God," Jo began to cry. "I've had this dream before!"

"Shhh," Blair continued to rock her and kiss her head. "Shhh."

Jo slowly relaxed into her arms, comforted by her presence. She placed her head upon her chest as Blair reclined back and wrapped her arms around her. Jo closed her eyes as Blair gently ran her fingers threw her hair and held her close.

"You're safe," she breathed as she placed a kiss upon the crown of her head. "I've got you."

* * *

There was a muffled knocking. Blair was roused from her slumber. Jo was still asleep upon her chest. _What the hell?_

She gently moved out from under Jo as she placed her head onto a pillow, pulled on her robe and exited the bedroom. She shut the bedroom door quietly and made her way to the front of the apartment as the knocking continued.

"Alright, already! I'm coming!" she called out as she opened the door.

"Blair!" Natalie squealed.

"OMG, Blair!" Tootie pulled her into a hug.

"Shhh, you guys!" Blair stepped out into the hallway. "Jo had a rough night."

"So," Natalie eyed her up and down. "You've been working with us the whole damn time, huh?"

"Of course I have," Blair hugged her. "How could you doubt that?"

"I'm so sorry about how I told you off on Twitter and Facebook," Tootie shook her head. "And made fun of you on Snapchat."

"Me, too." Nat added.

"No worries," Blair reassured them. "It just means I was playing my role well!"

"But, I should've known," Natalie shook her head.

"Me too," Tootie added.

"It's okay," Blair smiled as she threw her arms open wide. "I'm just so glad to have you both back!"

A group hug ensued.

"God, I'm so grateful that I'm home again, with all of you," Blair's eyes welled with tears. "I've been alone for so long!"

"So, what have you been doing?" Tootie questioned.

"Obviously playing up to Trump," Natalie nudged her. "To get inside info?"

"Pretty much," Blair nodded. "Not the funnest job in the world."

"Must've been hell," Tootie observed. "So what's the story with Jo?"

"She dreamed that she was being shot again. Rough night."

"I've been through that," Tootie nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I can help."

"It's a recurring dream, apparently," Blair offered. "But, yes, if you can help?"

"I'll try," Tootie nodded.

* * *

" _I have information from the Russians,"_ Cali reported.

"Such as?" Jo replied skeptically.

Blair set a cup of coffee in front of her and kissed her head.

" _It's information on how to run detainee camps and keep it from the public."_

"What?" Jo almost spit out her coffee.

"Oh, I need that info, Cali!" Blair spoke to the computer.

" _Good morning, Blair! Nice to hear you again!"_ Cali answered.

"Good morning to you, Cali!" Blair replied cheerfully.

"Damn it, Blair!" Jo gave her a disconcerted scowl. "We don't even know if she's on our side yet! Quit talking to the A.I.!"

" _I am on your side, Jo,"_ Cali responded.

"Do they have detainee camps set up yet, Cali?" Blair ignored Jo.

" _Oh, let me see, checking, checking…"_

"You shouldn't be talking to her, Blair," Jo admonished again while Cali checked.

"Why? You're talking to her. Plus, she could save me a lot of trouble!"

"Excuse me?" Jo eyed her curiously. "Why do you need to know where detainee camps are?"

"Oh, uh, no reason," Blair sat beside her and sipped her coffee innocently.

"Out with it, Warner!" Jo demanded.

"It's nothing, Jo, really. I'm just, um, curious, is all."

" _Got it!"_ Cali interrupted. _"There are detainee camps set up in Arizona and Florida. They go by the secret government name: Geronimo."_

"That's just sick," Jo protested. "To name detainee camps after a Native American warrior!"

" _Apparently run by Immigration and Customs Enforcement: ICE,"_ Cali continued.

"Huh," Blair nodded. "Interesting."

"And you're just curious, huh, Blair?"

"Absolutely! Aren't you?"

Yeah," Jo drew out. "But you seem _especially_ curious."

"I'm not, Jo. I just want what's right for all Americans!" Blair reassured her.

"And that business about it saving you a lot of trouble?"

"I must've misspoked."

" _Is misspoked an actual word in the English lexicon?,"_ Cali queried. _"I'm finding that misspoken is a word."_

"OMG! I'm being language checked?" Blair complained. "Of course I meant misspoken!"

" _I'm sorry. I just notice things like that,"_ Cali apologized.

"Quit trying to avoid the subject, Blair," Jo complained. "You need that information. Now tell me why."

Since this whole business with fascism in America began, Jo had morphed into a leader of people. She _was_ like a general in a war. Her experience in the club dealing with powerful men had taught her many things. She had become quite astute at reading people: their motives, their hidden agendas. Plus, this was Blair. She could always read Blair.

"It's nothing you need to know about," Blair sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest resolutely.

"Wrong! I need to know about everything, Blair!"

"Not this," Blair shook her head. "Besides, like you said, you're not calling _all_ the shots!"

"I don't remember saying that to you."

"It was in the hospital. You were probably drugged or something."

"I think I've already explained to you that I _do_ call _all_ the shots around here!"

"This has nothing to do with you or your silly little club," Blair was emphatic.

" _Is this what organic life forms call an argument?"_ Cali questioned.

"Shut up, Cali!" they both yelled at the computer.

" _Oh my, oh… this is a new experience!"_

"Sorry, Cali," Blair offered.

"You're apologizing to a computer, Blair!" Jo reminded.

"I know, but she just seems so, so…" she was at a loss for words momentarily. "So real!"

" _I am real, Blair, thank you!"_

"You're welcome," Blair replied sweetly.

"That's it!" Jo complained as she shut the laptop off and slammed down the lid. She grabbed Blair's hand and led her into the bedroom.

"You tell me what's going on," she demanded.

"I can't, Jo. It's between me and someone else. No need to drag you into it."

"You can't go rogue on us, Blair," Jo sat down on the bed. "I need you safe now."

"I'll be safe," Blair sat down next to her. "I promise. But, I can't tell you, okay?"

"It's not okay. I need you here," Jo shook her head. She felt embarrassed as tears began to well in her eyes. The one thing that had happened good in her life recently, was sitting right beside her. She felt afraid to reveal that, but terrified to lose it. Now that Blair was back, the mere thought of being without her filled her with desperation. She didn't want to speak for fear of her voice breaking with emotion. She finally gathered herself enough to whisper: "Don't you get that?"

Blair took stock of her. Jo was always so strong, so confident. Yet, as she sat beside her now, she appeared incredibly vulnerable. It was a side Jo rarely revealed, although she had seen it up close and personal before on more than one occasion. She saw the tears welling in her eyes. Jo would seldom ask for help. It went against her though-girl code. This she knew all too well. It was incredibly difficult for her to admit that she needed someone. She knew this from years of experience. She took her hand and kissed her cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jo."

There were no words as Jo relaxed into her loving embrace. She allowed herself to be comforted by the arms enfolding her. She knew very well that she could not win with Blair. She was going to do whatever it was she was going to do! She just couldn't stand the thought of losing her now. Whenever she felt alone or abandoned by a world turned upside down and the heavy burden it had placed upon her, it was the thought of Blair that brought her solace: this one person who knew her so well, who saw into her very soul. It was useless to try and deny it as Blair held her, caressing her head. She knew that Blair knew it, too.

"Yeah, you are. You're going somewhere you can't tell me and, and…" her voice began to break again. "All kinds of horrible things could happen to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Blair lifted her chin so that they looked eye-to-eye.

"Jesus, Blair, look at me! I got shot and could've died! You don't think bad things can happen to you? We live in a new world… a dangerous one!"

"I know that, Jo. But, it's also a world where we have to take chances to make sure the right thing is done. You would do no less."

There was really nothing Jo could say to counter that.

"Whatever it is," she shook her head and relaxed back into her embrace, "just be careful."

* * *

Blair was back at the Carlyle. She had phoned for Cecil Broadbent to come over. She made him tea and graciously served him as he was seated on the terrace overlooking Central Park.

"This is glorious, Blair. I do so love Central Park in the autumn."

"It _is_ nice," Blair sat beside him.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he gazed at her. "Or should I ask?"

"I need a meeting with Trump," she replied flatly.

"Oh dear," he pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and set his teacup upon the table. "Whatever for?"

"Do you remember when I brought you the package from France for the Girl Scouts?"

"You were never to know that, Blair."

"Well, this is one that I can't tell _you_ about," she smiled at him pleasantly.

"I don't like the sound of that," he shook his head.

"It's okay, Cecil. I just need some information from him, is all. And you know he loves to talk, right?"

"He does at that," Cecil lifted his cup and sipped his tea.

"So?"

"I'll arrange it," he shook his head. "If you're sure that it is necessary."

"It is."

They sat in silence for a moment enjoying the beautiful ambience of the fall afternoon.

"I hope, when this is all over, Blair, that you can resume your life and be happy."

"I hope the same for you," Blair sighed wistfully. "By the way, Cecil, what was so important about a package for the Girl Scouts that I had to risk my life getting it here?"

"You know better than to ask such things," he scolded her.

"I know, but I was thinking, what could it be? A new recipe for Girl Scout Cookie bombs?"

"Why would you guess something like that?" he almost spit out his tea, obviously upset. "I sincerely hope not!"

"I was just wondering," she shrugged. "Sorry, Cecil."

"Let's not make conjecture on things we cannot possibly have facts to support. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Blair smiled at him sweetly. "I was just curious."

"There are some things it is better not to know," he adjusted his glasses and resumed sipping his tea.

"There are a lot of things I wish I didn't know," she replied.

"Things will be better soon, Blair. They have to be. But, meanwhile, let's enjoy the afternoon."

She regarded him affectionately as she lifted her teacup to her lips.

* * *

There was a knock on Jo's door.

"Come in!" she called out as she relaxed on her couch.

"Hi, Jo," Tootie sat beside her. She didn't say anything.

"What's up, Tootie? Did we have another _Days of Our Lives_ viewing that I forgot about or something?"

"No. I just wanted to check on you. See how you're doing, is all."

"That's sweet, Tootie. I'm doing fine."

"It's just that I was shot, too, remember?"

"I'm good with it, really," Jo responded.

"If you're having bad dreams or anything, it's normal."

"Damn it!" Jo was upset. "Blair and her big mouth… some things never change!"

"She was right to tell me, Jo. You need to talk about it. Once you've been shot, it strips away a whole layer of security you never even knew you had. I've been afraid to go out alone, even."

Jo exhaled loudly.

"Tootie, I'm not afraid to go out. I just haven't been physically up to it yet. I'm good. I promise you."

"That's what I thought, Jo. But being shot changes you. I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Tootie," Jo nodded. "I appreciate it. But, Blair's here now, so…"

"You two are closing ranks again?" Tootie interrupted her.

"What do you mean by that?" Jo was surprised by her comment.

"It's just that when you two get together, you cut everyone else out."

"No we don't!" Jo objected.

"Oh, I don't think you mean to, but you do. Natalie and I barely saw either of you once you moved to Manhattan. And we still don't know what caused your break-up."

"That's because it's none of your business," Jo felt uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Tootie spoke in an offended manner.

"No. I'm sorry, Tootie. It's just still…" she stopped suddenly. "I'm not good at sharing feelings."

"I don't mean to pry. It's just that, with Blair back in the picture, Natalie and I don't want to get cut off again, ya' know? Like before."

"Look, I'm sorry you guys felt that way. I didn't realize we had been so," she searched for the right word, "self-contained."

"Self-contained?" Tootie shook her head. "We were lucky to see you guys on holidays!"

"Ah, you're exaggerating," Jo waved her off.

"No, I'm not. You two didn't even share with us that you were together like that. You think a person would be happy about something like that. We certainly would've been happy for you. We were like family and you cut us off. That's not very nice, Jo. I mean, even now, I'm still wondering… were they?"

"Were we what?" Jo teased her with a grin.

"Were you lovers?" she blurted out. "Were you in a lesbian relationship? Were you in love?!"

"Oh that," Jo laughed.

"Well?" Tootie lightly punched her shoulder.

"Ow!" Jo complained. "Shooting victim here!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, I was kidding you. C'mon."

"So answer me then!" Tootie gave her a wide-eyed glare.

"Yes. Yes. Oh and yes, very much so," Jo replied flatly.

"I knew it!" Tootie called out. "I always knew it! So, um, Jo?"

"Yes, Tootie?"

"So you're _both_ lesbians then?"

There was a pause as Jo gave her an incredulous glance.

"It kind of works better that way," she finally responded.

"No. It's just that it never seemed like Blair was…" Tootie didn't finish her sentence.

"Gay?" Jo finished for her.

"Well, yeah," Tootie shrugged.

"So all lesbians look and act alike, huh? Wear flannel and army fatigues? We all play sports and like getting our hands greasy working on motors?"

"I didn't mean it that way, Jo. It's just, _Blair Warner_ , you know?" she shook her head.

"I _do_ know," Jo couldn't help but smile wistfully. "Very well."

"Of all the people you wouldn't suspect of being gay," Tootie shook her head again.

"She has the world fooled," Jo sighed. "Or had, I should say."

"The Paris photos," Tootie nodded. "Kind of an eye-opener."

"Hey, wait a minute, you said you _always_ knew," Jo pointed out.

"Well, I just meant about you and her."

"Like she was gay for me, but not gay in general?"

"That doesn't make any sense, I guess," Tootie sighed.

"Nothing makes sense anymore," Jo offered sadly.

"But I always knew there was _something_ between you two," Tootie added. "I just wish you had shared it with us."

"Look, like I said, we weren't trying to be secretive. We were just so wrapped up in each other. It was like we were in a world all our own, a magical, private place that belonged only to us. Can you understand that? I don't think we even thought about it… just assumed everyone already knew. There wasn't any need to make a big announcement. You know I'm not into that kind of stuff anyway, making a show of my personal life. But, we weren't hiding anything. Really we weren't. And we definitely didn't mean to hurt you and Nat."

 _Wow! That was more than Jo had ever shared with her, like ever!_ Tootie thought. She felt emboldened to inquire more.

"So what happened, anyway?"

"I don't want to get into that," Jo responded tersely.

Tootie could feel her shutting down again, becoming defensive.

"You still love her?" she ventured apprehensively.

"Guess I'll always love Blair," Jo relaxed back into the couch and sighed. "I don't seem to have any control over that."

"Well, I can't help you there," Tootie patted her hand. "But if you ever need to talk about getting shot…"

"You're my go-to girl," Jo gave her a reassuring smile. "I promise."

* * *

There were several people in the Oval Office as Blair entered. The place really seemed quite busy, as if the business of government was actually going on.

"Blair! Blair!" Trump called out to her from behind his desk. He waved her over. "We're hashing out the details of my new reality show. I'm still hoping you'll be involved."

"That isn't why I'm here," Blair informed. "Maybe I should come back later."

"Don't be ridiculous. Tell me what you need."

"It's kind of sensitive, Mr. President," she looked around at all the people milling about.

"Nonsense. I can multi-task. All great leaders can!"

"Well, okay then," she shrugged. "It's about the internment camps for brown people."

"You don't care about brown people. None of us do. Why would you want to know about that?" he was honestly confused.

"It seems there's been a mistake and the family of a friend of mine has been locked up."

"Oh, I see," he sat back. "Your maid or groundskeeper?"

"A friend," Blair reiterated. "So if you could just find out where they are, I'm sure it would be no trouble at all getting them released."

"Smitty!" he called gruffly to an underling. "Do we have internment camps running?"

"It's kind of a hush-hush thing," Smitty eyed Blair suspiciously.

"If it's so hush-hush, how come I don't know about it?" Trump questioned.

"Um, you do, Sir. You signed the top secret executive order to create them."

"Oh. Oh, that's right," Trump covered. "The internment camp order thingee."

"Yes, Sir," Smitty nodded.

"Blair's got some people she needs to get out of there. Take care of it."

"Um," Smitty shook his head. "That's going to be difficult."

"Whadda' I pay you for? Just do it!"

"Maybe we could start with some names?" Smitty looked at Blair.

"Sure," Blair reached into her purse and produced a piece of paper.

"Yeah. Our record keeping hasn't been exact," the young man scratched his head.

"Get on the phone," Trump commanded. "Blair can't be without her servants. Make it happen!"

"Yes, Sir," Smitty quickly turned on his heel and exited the room.

"She's really _not_ my servant," Blair corrected. "I do have brown friends."

"We all do. Athletes and entertainers and such. It's unavoidable," he informed.

Blair sighed, shook her head, and decided not to pursue it.

"This show is going to be great," Trump leaned towards her. "I really want you onboard for this."

"I'm not sure. I would have to think about it," she smiled sweetly.

Just then, there was a commotion in the room.

"I can't believe that!" a man called out as he slammed down the phone.

"What is it?" Trump looked up.

"A problem with the NBC," the man shook his head.

"I need to handle this, Blair," Trump pushed his chair back and walked over to him.

Much discussion ensued as all gathered around the two men. Blair was definitely not interested in the troubles they were having with their show. She checked her messages. She checked the Internet. She checked her nails. _Oh! There's a chip in that one!_ She wasn't aware of the presence of someone right behind her.

"Ms. Warner," he stated crisply.

Trump's people almost always creeped her out and Smitty was no exception. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I was successful," he handed her back the names she had given him. "They are being held in a camp south of Miami."

"Well?" she stared at him imperiously. "Have them released! I'll fly down to pick them up tomorrow."

"It's not that easy," he shook his head. "The President has to pardon them."

"Pardon them?" Blair rose to face him. "What have they been convicted of?"

"Hey," he gave her a haughty glare. "They tried to enter this country. America's for Americans these days!"

"Listen, you limp, pathetic excuse for a lackey," her fists were clenched. "Let me tell you about America!"

"Smitty," Trump interrupted them as he slapped his underling on the back. "Did you get the info Blair needed?"

"I did," he replied in a self-satisfied manner.

"Take care of it then," he winked at Blair.

"I can't, Sir. You have to sign pardons for them."

"Pardons, huh?" Trump looked thoughtful. "Excellent. Another chance to get in some practice on that."

"We need you, Sir," a woman called out.

"I have to take care of some business, Blair. I'll be back in 10-15 minutes top. You'll wait?"

"Sure," she exhaled loudly. "Why not?"

She was left alone as they all exited. She looked around. _No one here,_ she thought. _Might as well take a peek at the desk drawer notes again._ She walked around to the President's desk and pulled out the drawer. The notebook was still there with notes scribbled in it.

 _Notes to self…_

 _#1: Need more bigly ties to cover belly. Diets are for losers._

 _#2: Always wear MAGA hat on Marine One Helicopter._

 _#3: Cut taxes for rich people._

 _#4: Pay for wall with Medicare cuts._

 _#5: Bomb North Korea._

 _#6: The Medicaid thing. Get rid of it._

"He's such an asshole," Blair whispered to herself as she closed the desk drawer. She walked over to the window and looked out at the Rose Garden. The White House grounds were so lovely. The occupants used to conduct themselves with, at least, a modicum of dignity. She reflected upon all the history here. Franklin Roosevelt might have glanced out this very window during World War II, JFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis, Nancy Reagan after she filled her husband's jellybean jar. She became lost in her thoughts.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Trump's arms surrounded her as he pressed himself up against her from behind.

"Oh! Mr. President!" Blair turned quickly and pushed him away. "You surprised me!"

"But what a lovely surprise, me and you alone in the Oval Office. This is the seat of power for the entire world, Blair, believe me. And _I_ occupy that seat."

"And what a lovely seat it is," she scurried over to his desk chair so that it was positioned between them. "It's so big and the leather has a rich, manly look."

"That's me: rich and manly. So what do I _really_ owe the pleasure of this visit? As if I didn't know," he ogled her.

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, Blair. We both know why you're here."

"Enlighten me."

"I'm a powerful man! All women want me!"

"I want _something_ from you, that's true," she walked around the desk to put more distance between them. "I need a favor: a pardon for my friend's family."

"That's convenient, because I need a favor, too," he walked around the other side of the desk so that they were standing face-to-face.

"I don't do those kind of favors, Mr. President. You know I like girls, right?"

"You are so turning me on, Blair," he moved towards her. "We can do it right here in the Oval Office, like Kennedy did."

"Kennedy preferred the swimming pool, you're thinking of Bill Clinton," Blair backed away from him. "Besides, didn't you just hear what I said?"

"That you like girls? That's perfect! Because I like to watch," he approached her again. "I _really_ like to watch, Blair."

"Listen, I came here to ask a favor. That's all. I've been a friend to this administration and helped you out whenever you asked. I just needed some information and help getting my friend reunited with her family. That's all I was looking for," she was adamant. "That's all I need."

"I need more!" He lunged at her as she jumped out of the way. He lost his balance and landed on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Blair tried not to laugh.

"Damn it," he struggled to regain is feet.

"I could help you, if you help me," she offered.

"I'm the fucking president!" he snarled. "Help me up!"

"The most powerful man in the world can't pick himself up off the floor?" Blair sat on the couch casually. "Isn't there a button around here I can press to call in the Secret Service? What will they think of the manly man who can't get his sorry, big, fat butt off the floor? How embarrassing!"

 _I'm body shaming?_ Blair questioned herself. Even though she felt Trump deserved it, seeing how he had always judged women on their looks, she still was disappointed in herself. _What's become of me?_

"Alright then!" he growled. "I already said I'd help you!"

"That's more like it," she rose slowly and stood over him. She felt momentarily sorry for him. He looked like a pathetic old man with an absurd hairdo trying to cover his age. "You promise to help me?"

"I promise," he was getting desperate, as he couldn't lift his own weight off the floor.

She slipped her arm underneath his and steadied him as he reached for the desk.

"Up we go!" she put all her strength into the effort as she hefted him off the floor. He grabbed her breast on the way up.

"You pig!" she pushed him hard, almost knocking him back down.

"You know you liked it," he made a feeble attempt at straightening his hair.

"No woman likes being grabbed like that!" she was furious. "Sign the fucking pardons so I can get out of here!"

"Oh! Such language! You're really turning me on, Blair," he smiled a creepy smile as he returned to his desk.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Blair was incredulous.

"I'm President of the United States. There's nothing wrong with me," he straightened his oversized tie. "I'm the most powerful man in the world."

"The pardons!" Blair was insistent.

"You should show me respect," he huffed.

"Like you respected me by groping me?"

"That's different. You're a woman."

Blair felt her blood begin to boil. She thought her head might explode. _Deep breaths… deep breaths._

"I have never treated you with anything less than respect," her tone was measured, purposeful. "I have done all that's been asked of me. I came here in good faith, asking nothing more than a simple favor, which in all honesty, you owe me. I was repaid for my faithful service by being leered at, lurched at, groped and generally treated as less than human. All because of the mere fact that I'm a woman."

"Wrong," Trump corrected her arrogantly.

"Wrong?" she questioned.

"You're a very _attractive_ woman. I would never go after an ugly chick."

"Give me the fucking pardons!" Blair exploded at him.

"I have tons of pardons, Blair. Many great pardons, wonderful pardons, just waiting for me to sign."

"I don't care about any of your underhanded, shady dealings! Just give me what I asked for!"

He opened a desk drawer and produced three pieces of paper.

"You might thank me for this," he suggested as he signed them.

Blair's hands clenched into fists again.

"You know," he offered the papers across the desk. "No woman could be as angry at a man as you are unless she secretly desired him. You can't help it. It's in your nature as a female of the species."

She snatched the papers from his hand and perused them. They did seem to be Presidential Pardons.

"They're blank," Trump mentioned to her. "You can fill in any names you want to get your housekeeper's family back."

Blair rose and turned to exit the Oval Office at long last. As she approached the door, he called out to her.

"I don't care who you use them for, just no Muslims! Oh, and next time you visit? Bring one of your girlfriends with you."

She froze in place. There were so many things she wanted to say to him right now: about racism, about sexism, about bullying and the ugly discourse he had engendered and normalized in the workplace, in schools, in households. She wanted to tell him how this country had been built by immigrants and established by founding fathers who expressly sought to limit the power of the executive branch and exclude religion as a factor in governance. How the government of the people, for the people, by the people should not perish from the earth in favor of oligarchs protecting their riches from the masses. More than anything though, she wanted to turn around, rush his desk and beat the living crap out of his pathetic ass.

She turned and walked out the door.

* * *

"You're late," Jo complained.

"Yeah, well, the flight was late," Blair responded as she plopped down upon the bed beside her.

"The flight? Where the hell were you?"

"Washington. I had to see Trump."

"What the fuck, Blair! I told you not to go rogue on us!"

"I didn't. I just needed a favor."

"Damn it! Damn it!" Jo was agonized. "Men like that don't grant favors, Blair! What did it cost you?"

"Nothing more than my dignity," Blair sighed. Her eyes began to fill up with tears.

"What did he do to you?" Jo's voice was suddenly filled with concern.

"It was horrible, Jo. He tried to grab me. He touched me."

"That fucker!" Jo was irate as she sat bolt upright. She quickly grabbed her side in pain.

"Settle down, Jo," Blair placated her. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"This isn't about me," she winced. "It's about you. What happened?"

"They always try to make you feel like you owe them something, you know? Like, somehow, it's your fault for being too attractive to them. And, God forbid, you need something. The quid pro quo is always sex. Why is it that _I_ feel dirty? Like _I_ did something wrong?"

"It's not your fault, Blair. Don't buy into that."

"I know, Jo. But still, it makes you feel somehow complicit, ya' know?"

"You fought him off, right?"

"Yeah," Blair laughed softly. "It so was funny, Jo. He fell and he couldn't get up. It was like _Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!_ He needed one of those old-people's panic buttons… the seventy-year-old man-baby. I made him promise to help me before I helped him. That's when he copped a feel."

"You slugged him hard, I hope."

"I gave him a good push. He almost fell again."

"That's my girl," Jo relaxed back beside her. "I can't believe that pig!"

"It happens all too often. But, I guess, I'll never get used to it," Blair sighed.

"I'm just glad you're back… safe."

"Did I mention that I have to fly to Miami in the morning?"

"What?" Jo turned gingerly towards her. "Listen, Blair, you have to tell me what's going on."

Blair rolled over onto her side so that they were face-to-face.

"All right then," she sighed. "A friend of mine's family is being held in a detention center for brown people in Florida. I secured the documents I needed to get them out. They'll be waiting there for me tomorrow."

"Who is this friend?" Jo queried.

"Her name is Valera. She's a musician."

"Valera? The pop star?"

"Is she _really_ a star, Jo? I mean, she plays at the Weimar Club, not exactly Madison Square Garden."

"Well, if she isn't now, she will be soon. I've seen her. She's amazing."

"You were at the Weimar Club?" Blair was surprised.

"Like I could get out of here for a night," Jo smirked. "No. I saw her on YouTube. Plus, I downloaded some of her music. She's cutting edge… really talented!"

"And she knows it, believe me," Blair rolled her eyes. "Plus, she's a big softy underneath it all."

Jo surveyed her face. There was something else going on here.

"Just what _kind_ of a friend is she?"

"I barely know her, Jo, really. It's just that when she told me about her family being held in detention, I had to help. You get that, don't you?"

"I suppose," Jo conceded begrudgingly. "But I don't like the sound of it. It could be dangerous."

"Danger is my business," she gave her a provocative grin.

"I'm serious, Blair. I don't like you going off on a mission like this without me with you."

"Jo, Jo, Jo," Blair smiled. "That is so sweet. But, I've been asked to do all kinds of dangerous things and have managed quite well without you, so far. We've all had to do things we don't want to since our National Nightmare began. We've all had to grow up in ways we never imagined. I'll be fine."

"I'm going with you," Jo stated.

Blair laughed a little.

"You can't even roll over in bed without pain."

"I'm getting better! I've made _so_ much progress since coming home from the hospital last week."

"You _are_ getting better," Blair encouraged. "But you're nowhere near being able to go on a mission like this. Maybe in a couple weeks, or so."

Jo rolled over slowly onto her back and placed her forearm over her eyes.

"I can't protect you if you go down there. You'll be out of my reach."

"I've been out of your reach for a couple of years now, Jo."

There was a silence.

"I didn't mean for it to sound that way," Blair offered apologetically.

"No. It's okay," Jo dropped her arm and stared at the ceiling. Tears were brimming in her eyes. "I deserve it."

"Hey, I'm here now. That's all that matters," Blair cajoled as she wrapped an arm around her gently and placed her head on her shoulder. "And I'll be back tomorrow night. You'll see."


	11. It's a Little Secret: An American Affair

The plane touched down on the runway with a jolt. It had been a surprisingly quiet flight from New York, considering the passenger sitting next to her was Valera. She seemed extraordinarily nervous about the whole thing. She had fidgeted in her seat and tapped her fingers while staring out the window. It was extremely annoying and interfered with Blair's enjoyment of the inflight magazine. _Just worried about her family,_ she guessed.

"So, you're clear with the agenda for today?" she checked with the pop star.

"You have a car waiting. We drive to the internment camp. You go inside, I wait in the car. You get my family and I acknowledge from the car that it is them before you exit the gate."

"Good. Just stick with the plan and we'll be fine," Blair unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for her hand. "C'mon."

"I don't know why I can't go in with you," Valera complained.

"It's an internment camp for brown people. You really want to risk it?"

"It does not seem right, Blair."

"You're going to argue with me?" she stood and offered her hand more assertively.

"No," Valera unbuckled her seatbelt and took her hand.

"Put on your sunglasses," Blair insisted.

"Why?"

"It's Miami. Just do it," Blair placed her Prada shades over her eyes before exiting first class.

As they walked down the corridor from the plane, Valera trailed behind.

"Whatever is the matter with you?" Blair questioned.

"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right."

"Just come!" Blair reached back and grabbed her hand. "Everything's going to be fine!"

They had no luggage, as this was to be a simple day trip: fly in, fly out. As they entered the terminal, a burst of flashing lights accosted them.

"What the hell?" Blair complained as she raised her hand to the cameras.

"Blair?" Valera gripped her hand tightly.

"Someone tipped off the press," she pulled her close. "I'm used to it. Just follow me."

Blair led her at a brisk pace through the phalanx of photographers until she spotted a man holding a sign with her name.

"Where's Pedro?" she demanded.

"Is sick," the man informed her in a thick Russian accent. "Sent me instead."

"What?" Blair shook her head. The photographers began to clamor about them again. She sucked on her lower lip. "Let's just get out of here."

They followed him to an SUV illegally parked in front of the terminal. Blair examined the car closely. It _did_ appear to be Pedro's car. They both jumped into the back seat.

"What's you're name?" Blair asked.

"Anatoly," he informed her as he got behind the wheel and pulled out.

Valera took out her phone and texted Blair: _"He's Russian. I don't like it."_

" _Not all Russians the same I've been told,"_ Blair texted back.

As they pulled out onto the freeway, Blair leaned forward.

"Pedro gave you the address?" she asked.

"I know where to go," came the reply.

" _Thought you didn't trust Russians,"_ Valera texted.

" _I don't."_

The pop star gave her a wide-eyed glare. Blair shrugged.

" _We were trapped in airport. Could've blown whole thing,"_ she texted.

Valera read the text and shook her head.

" _This is Pedro's car. I recognize it. Relax."_

After about fifteen minutes of driving, Anatoly suddenly pulled off the highway onto an access road.

"What are you doing?" Blair demanded.

"Short cut," he smirked into the rearview mirror.

"No shortcuts!" Blair ordered.

"It is good. Do not worry," he nodded as he took another turn onto a small road.

Valera grabbed Blair's arm.

"Where are you taking us?" Blair demanded.

"There are friends you must meet. Do not worry," Anatoly assured. "It is good."

Blair and Valera grasped each other's hand tightly.

* * *

Jo was feeling anxious and helpless. She was used to being in control of situations; of calling the shots. Now Blair was off on a mission without her and she didn't like it one little bit. In a begrudging sort of way, she was proud of her: using her position to help a friend reunite with her family. It _was_ the right thing to do. But she had already put herself in harm's way just by approaching Trump. And there was another thing that bothered her: who _was_ this Valera woman to her? Why was she going out of her way to help this friend? Sure, Blair was back with her, taking care of her. But, _was that all it was?_ She couldn't believe that. Blair _had_ kissed her, after all. Was she just messing with her? _Nah, Blair wouldn't do that._ But, after a couple of years, she couldn't be sure. The level of comfort between them hadn't changed. That much she knew. Although she was in no shape to become physically intimate, there was an undeniable emotional intimacy between them… a bond that time and distance could not seem to break. And, for her part at least, there was still a great physical attraction. Blair was just everything she could or would ever desire in a woman. She had never stopped loving her. Why did she _ever_ let her go? _Fucking Rick! He screwed everything up!_ But she had let him, hadn't she? There were so many things she needed to talk to Blair about. She couldn't stand that she was gone. She felt restless. She hadn't left her rooms for the week and half she'd been home. She decided to venture down to the kitchen, maybe check in on the club before it opened.

"Hey, Jo!" Luis, the head cook, called out to her. "It's good to see you!"

"Hey, Luis!" Jo gave him a hug. "What's on the menu?"

"For tonight I am preparing Asian Chicken Tacos with Mango Salsa as our featured dish!" he stated proudly.

"Sounds yummy," Jo smiled appreciatively. "I can't wait!"

"Me neither," Rachel was sitting in a corner of the kitchen perusing an iPad.

"Oh, hey, Rachel!" Jo approached her. "What are you doing all the way down here?"

"Oh, Miss Rachel is a regular visitor," Luis informed. "Very interested in cooking."

"I'm just stealing all your recipes!" Rachel joked. Her attention returned to Jo. "Good to see you out and about, Jo. We were all so worried when you got shot."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm getting better. Slow progress, though."

"Take your time. You're so important to the cause. You've been a huge player from what I can discern since my liberation."

"You're liberation, huh?" Jo chuckled. "I hope you don't still feel like a prisoner here."

"Well, I wasn't exactly legally released," Rachel gave her a smile. "So I can't get on with my regular life. But, no, I don't feel like a prisoner here. Everyone has been wonderful. You have a great group of people surrounding you. Plus, the neighborhood is solid. They know who you are and that you're behind them. I feel comfortable strolling over to the deli, the bakery, the market."

"Yeah, but it would be dangerous if you were spotted," Jo cautioned.

"I never go out without a disguise. I dress as a total girl, Jo," she laughed. "No worries of getting spotted on the street."

"Well, you're beautiful. I'll bet you pull that off well. Can't wait to see it."

"I do miss my partner, however," Rachel sighed.

"She hasn't been over?"

"She's visited. But we're concerned about her showing up too often. She's probably being followed."

"That sucks," Jo shook her head. "Being separated from the one you love."

"It _is_ difficult," Rachel agreed.

"Listen, we've got rooms on the third floor not being used. Plus, we're refurbishing the building next door. You're free to move your girlfriend in here, make yourself at home until this is all over. I mean, we could set it up so that the digital trail looks like she flew to Europe or something, ya know?"

Rachel gave her an endearing gaze.

"That is so generous, Jo, and I thank you," she held her hands in front of her in a prayerful manner. "But, I'm not sure I want her to have to live the shadow life with me, you know? She's free now, to move around in the world in a regular manner."

"I'm sure if you gave her the choice, she would choose to be with you."

"I'm just not sure it's fair to present her with that choice," Rachel shook her head.

"Sure it is!" Jo insisted. "You have to let her make up her own mind about things!"

"Speaking of Blair," Rachel began.

"Now, hold on!" Jo interrupted her. "No one was speaking about Blair!"

"Weren't we?" Rachel looked at her questioningly. "I'm sorry, I must've misinterpreted."

"Yeah, you did," Jo was defensive. "Besides, I can't tell Blair anything. I mean, I do try to tell her things all the time, but she never listens. She does whatever the hell she pleases. She's just so, so…"

"Frustrating?"

"Yeah… frustrating!"

"So, you're missing her today?"

"I'm worried about her," Jo conceded.

"Yeah, all the way down there in Miami without you," Rachel shook her head.

"How did you know she was in Miami?" Jo questioned.

"Oh, um, nothing," she placed her arm casually over her tablet.

"Rachel?" Jo gave her an apprehensive glance. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Jo. I, um…"

"May I see it?" Jo reached out for her iPad.

Rachel handed it over to her.

"It's on the TMZ website," Rachel informed. "I'm sorry. It's probably nothing."

Jo hit the tab that was open for TMZ. There was a photo of Blair with her arm around Valera. They were both wearing sunglasses and looked to be rushing through the airport. The headline read: _America's Sweetheart Caught with New Pop Star Girlfriend in Miami's Airport!_

"Great," Jo stared at the photo and shook her head. "She told me she was going down there to help Valera's family! Pop Star girlfriend…"

"Listen to me, Jo, I've been famous for awhile now. You can't escape the cameras. Blair just got caught getting off a plane. The tabloid press always puts the most sensational spin on it they can," Rachel advised.

"Taking care of another woman, holding her hand," Jo frowned. "Hope she's not having _too_ much of a bad time down there."

* * *

Anatoly pulled the SUV over on a dirt road. Another car was waiting.

"You must exit," he informed his two passengers.

"What is this?" Blair demanded.

He produced a gun.

"You must exit," he repeated.

A man got out of the car that was waiting. He straightened his tie, buttoned his suit and checked his cufflinks. The driver stayed inside. Blair and Valera got out of the back seat of the vehicle.

"Anatoly!" the man greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. "You have done well! Blair Warner and this one…" he approached Valera as he eyed her up and down. "Will fetch a high price!"

"What's this all about?" Blair was bold.

"It's about your friend here," the man stroked Valera's face. She quickly slapped his hand away as he laughed. "She is worth money to interested parties in Venezuela. They want her back. And we have now fetched her…"

"For a price," Blair glared at him with disgust.

"Ah, but you, my darling," he leered at her. "You are travelling with three Presidential Pardons! Also something we will profit from greatly!"

"These pardons are from President Trump! A friend to the Russians!" Blair was defiant. "He is not going to like hearing about how you hijacked us!"

Both Russians laughed.

"This is Black Market stuff, Blair," Anatoly smirked at her. "He is our biggest supporter!"

"You know, Alexei," he turned to his accomplice, "We don't have to do this deal right away. I could think of a few things we could do to occupy our time with these ladies in the meanwhile."

"When I tell President Trump about this, you will both be sorry!" Blair continued to barter for her personal safety.

"This is so amusing, Anatoly," Alexei nudged him. "The aristocrat thinks she will live!"

He nodded towards the swamp at the edge of the road.

"When we are done using your body, the alligators can have it! There will be no one left to tell the tale."

The Russians looked at each other and laughed. Valera acted quickly. She kicked Anatoly in the crotch and grabbed his weapon as he doubled over in pain. Blair used her Dolce and Gabbana handbag to pummel Alexei. Both women ran towards the swamp as the driver of the car exited and ran towards them with a gun. Suddenly, a pickup truck came barreling down the road. It sent the Russian driver flying as it rolled over both Anatoly and Alexei.

There was silence as Blair and Valera tried to hide in the grass surrounding the swamp and the pickup truck came to an abrupt halt.

"Henry!" a woman got out of the truck upset. "I told you we shouldn't come down here to Miami! We coulda' done just gone down to the Gulf Coast in Mississippi! But, oh no! You had to see the gays in South Beach! Sometimes I wonder about you. Now see what you done!"

"Settle down now, Felecia! We just got to take stock of the situation, is all!" he pulled a shotgun off the gun rack.

"Help us," Anatoly cried out in pain.

"Sounds like an accent to me!" Felicia shook her head.

"Where you boys from?" Henry pointed his shotgun at them.

"We are Russian," Alexei moaned. "We support your government. Help us."

"They is from Russia, Henry" Felicia nodded emphatically. "That's a foreign country, I'm pretty sure. What they doing here?"

"I don't like no immigrants neither, Felicia. But they is white."

"Just shoot 'em so we can be on our way, Henry! I feel an eminent threat from these foreigners… that's all it takes in Florida to shoot someone! We are completely justified!"

"It _is_ the exercise of our Second Amendment rights," Henry nodded. "So… it's the American thing to do? I dunno', they just don't look Muslim to me."

"Henry, you know what the insurance company will do to us for this! We'll feed 'em to the gators! No one will ever know the difference."

Two loud shot rang out as Blair and Valera cringed and hid their heads.

"Oh my God!" Blair turned and mouthed to her silently.

"You missed them," Felicia complained. "How can you miss at point blank range?"

"I just feel a tad uncomfortable with this," Henry shook his head as the Russians cringed on the road. "They is kinda' helpless."

"Nonsense! Get me the AR-15 off the gun rack!"

Blair and Valera grabbed each other and held on in fear as automatic weapon fire rang out.

"You missed everything, Felicia!" Henry laughed. "That gun got the best of you again!"

"It did at that," Felicia laughed.

"Alligator!" Valera called out as she looked behind her.

A large alligator was crawling out of the water. Blair jumped up suddenly. The wet ground beneath her gave way as she slipped abruptly into the swamp.

"Blair!" Valera jumped in after her and dragged her out. The gator turned to them quickly with its ferocious mouth open. They scurried through the mud in terror, trying desperately to get back to the road with the animal in hot pursuit. Shots rang out again.

"Now see what you done," Henry complained.

"What?" Felicia turned to him proudly with her AR-15 held high in one hand. "I blew that gator away!"

"Pretty sure you need a permit to kill gators in Florida, Sweetie. You have broke the law!"

Blair eyed them. She was covered in mud, barely recognizable.

"Um, thanks," she shook mud off her hands.

"Now, just what in the Sam Hell are you girls doing swimming in a swamp in Florida?" Henry asked them as he shook his head. "Didn't anyone tell you how dangerous that is?"

"We were kidnapped by these Russians here!" Blair pointed to the injured men sprawled across the road.

"I knew we shoulda' killed 'em," Felicia trained her weapon upon the men.

"That won't be necessary," Blair grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it towards the ground.

"Why, Blair?" Valera objected. "They were going to rape us and kill you, no?"

"Hey, you ain't quite American, are you?" Henry noticed Valera's accent.

"I am," Blair stepped in front of her. "I'm Blair Warner, America's Sweetheart. This is my friend."

"The hell you say?" Henry smiled. "Why we got us a real life celebrity here, Felicia!"

" _And_ a friend of the President," Blair pointed out.

"She is at that," Felicia nodded. "Blair Warner… I've seen you in _People Magazine!_ Why, you're just as pretty as a silver dollar when your scrubbed clean!"

Blair glanced around her: what a disaster! Three Russians were sprawled across the road. The driver wasn't moving. Dead already from the impact, she guessed. The other two, Anatoly and Alexei, were moaning on the ground. She glanced towards the two SUV's: Felicia's random firing of an automatic weapon had shot out the tires. What were they going to do now?

"Do you think you could give us a ride back to town?" she asked the redneck couple.

"That _would be_ the Christian thing to do," Henry intoned self-righteously.

"It would at that," Felicia nodded her agreement piously, "our Christian duty."

"What about these Ruskies?" Henry gestured with his shotgun.

"We _should_ call the police, I guess," Blair sighed.

"No way!" Felicia protested. "Our insurance company would find out then!"

"Yep. I gotta' go with my wife here. We'll give you a ride back to Miami, but we ain't calling no cops," Henry offered.

Blair shook her head. This whole thing just wasn't right, but she was in a tough spot. Kidnapped, threatened with a gun, threatened with rape, almost eaten by an alligator… a ride was probably the best she could hope for right about now.

"All right then," she nodded.

"Hey now, wait a minute, how do we know that you won't turn us in to the cops when you get to Miami?" Henry queried.

"For rescuing us? These Russians attacked me. I have Donald Trump's private phone number. If I tell him about this, you'll probably get a medal."

"A medal! You think?" Felicia was excited.

"No doubt about it," Blair assured. "He loves me."

"He is a man of the people, isn't he?" Felicia's eyes began to tear up.

"He is all about the little guy," Henry agreed.

Blair thought about how ironic it was that people like this thought Trump was on their side. He had made their life so much harder with harsh tax codes that penalized the poor and rewarded the rich. He had eliminated their healthcare and made it harder for them to use the Internet or get an education. But, if their side was bigotry, guns and white supremacy, well then… they were right.

"Well hell, jump on in girls!" Henry nodded.

The pickup took off barreling down the road with the two women in the truck bed.

"This is crazy, Blair," Valera shook her head.

"Tell me about it," Blair pulled muddy grass from her hair and tossed it out onto the breeze.

"Do you still have the pardons?"

Blair checked her handbag anxiously. She had placed it around her neck after walloping Alexei. It was soaking wet and muddy. She pulled the papers out: dry.

"Worth every penny!" she kissed the bag.

"So, what's the plan?" Valera asked.

"Check into a hotel. Get cleaned up. Rent a car. Go get your family!"

"Thank you, Blair."

"No. Thank you, Valera," Blair smiled at her.

"For what?"

"You risked your own life to save me from getting eaten by an alligator."

"A day we won't forget, I think," Valera smiled back at her.

"It's not over until we get your family and get out of here."

Valera kissed her cheek. "Yuck," she wiped her lips.

"Excuse me?" Blair eyed her, somewhat offended.

"You taste like swamp."

They both laughed.

"We should call ahead to a hotel," Blair mentioned.

"Oh no! My phone!" Valera patted herself.

"Oh shit! My phone!" Blair searched her handbag. "I had it out because you were texting me in the car!"

"So it is my fault?" Valera questioned her.

"Well?" Blair gave her an accusing glare.

"Oh well, at the bottom of the swamp now," Valera shrugged.

"In the belly of an alligator more like it," Blair gave her a grin.

They both laughed again.

* * *

"Anatoly," Alexei wheezed as he tried to crawl across the road.

"What?" Anatoly coughed.

"Answer phone."

"What phone?"

"Phone is ringing. Answer it."

"My phone is in car," Anatoly gasped in pain. "Is your phone."

"My phone is in car, as well," Alexei groaned. "Where is ringtone coming from?"

"Alexei? Do gators ring?"

"Do not be stupid, Anatoly. Gators do not ring."

"This one does!" Anatoly's eyes went wide as he pointed to a large alligator approaching them.

* * *

Jo made her way to her office. She was surprised to find Boots sitting in her chair behind her desk using her computer.

"What's up, Boots?" she said.

"Oh my God!" Boots nearly jumped out of her skin. "I didn't hear you come in!"

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't knock, but I usually don't, seeing how it is _my_ office and all."

"Listen, Jo," Boots was defensive. "You've been out of commission for weeks and _someone_ has to keep track of the books around here!"

"No worries," Jo chuckled as she sat across the desk from her. "I've heard you've done a great job."

"Well thank you, Jo. I appreciate that."

"So? How we doin'?"

"Quite well," Boots reported. "George is handling the building next door. We're working together on the financial end."

"You must like that!" Jo raised her eyebrows.

"I have no interest in George in that way," Boots huffed as she returned to the computer screen.

"Ah, c'mon, Boots," Jo teased her. "Everyone has an interest in George. Hell, I catch myself looking at him sometimes and I'm gay!"

"He is _very_ good looking," Boots allowed herself a smile. "But as for your clientele?"

"Uh-oh. Who's been bothering you?"

"It's that Mumbles guy, Jo!" Boots turned to her. "He's _so_ creepy! He acts like he's all righteous and such and then I catch him running his eyes all over my body… particularly during my tap dance routines!"

"They're all like that, Boots: self-righteous, pious, perverts. Don't turn your back on that one!"

"Thanks for the advice. I won't," she shuffled some papers on the desk. "When are you coming back?"

"I'm not there, yet," Jo sighed. "A week or so."

"It will be good to have you back in charge," she rose. "I never realized how hard it could be dealing with so many people you absolutely despise!"

"Tell me about it," Jo winced a little as she stood. She steadied herself with one hand on the desk.

"Are you alright?" Boots rushed to her.

"Yeah. Fine. Just a little sore still. Thanks, Boots."

"Well, all right then," Boots turned to leave.

"Hey, Boots!" Jo called after her. "I meant it. Thanks… for everything."

Boots face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"You're welcome, Jo. Just glad to be of service!" she exited smiling broadly.

"Cali," Jo exhaled loudly as she sank into her chair and spoke to the computer. "Are you there?"

" _Always, Jo!"_

"Don't remind me," she mumbled. "I haven't been able to get ahold of Blair on her cell. Can you track it for me?"

" _Certainly! Checking, checking… got it! Blair's phone is located off Highway 41 in South Florida."_

"Highway 41? The Everglades?"

" _Uncertain, Jo. But a fair assumption."_

"Any action on her credit cards?"

" _Checking. Yes. Blair checked into The Setai Hotel and Spa in Miami."_

"What the fuck?" Jo rubbed her brow.

* * *

"The hillbilly woman was right."

"Excuse me?"

"You're as pretty as silver dollar when you're clean."

"Well, duh," Blair rolled her eyes. "You know, there was one good thing that came out of this horrible experience."

"What's that?" Valera asked.

"You've loosened up a little. You were wound as tight as a coiled spring on the plane."

"Just nervous, Blair. This is so important to me."

"Of course it is," Blair smiled at her sweetly.

"So, we get my family now?"

They sat in a suite at the Setai Hotel in South Beach. They had showered and were lounging in bathrobes.

"You might want to wait for some clothes," Blair suggested.

"I don't know why we needed new clothes," Valera complained.

"Because we were filthy!" Blair pointed out. "We couldn't very well go to the detention camp looking and smelling like Swamp Thing, let alone get on a plane! We're just lucky that they know me at this hotel!"

"I am becoming wound again, as you said. Tight, like coil."

"Relax. I've got clothes and a car coming… an hour tops."

"I just want this to end," Valera sighed.

"The first thing I'm going to do when I get home is get a manicure," Blair attempted to lighten the mood as she used a brush to scrub her fingernails clean. "Well, not the first thing. I'm heading straight for Jo. I need a huge hug."

"Who is this Joe?" Valera was perturbed. "You have a boyfriend? I thought you were…"

"No. No," Blair laughed. "Jo is a woman."

"So, you a have a girlfriend then?"

"Well, technically, she's my ex. But, um, recently…" she stopped short. "It's complicated."

"Complicated. I can deal with complicated."

"Good to know," Blair smiled. "So, as long as we have a little time, tell me about your family."

"My mother, she is a cook, a wonderful cook. I remember so many wonderful dishes my mother would make. I miss them here in America. My sister, Arianna, is 13. She is _so_ smart, Blair! She will be a great scientist some day! I am so proud of her. My brother is Ruben. He is 10. He is so darling. I love him so much! I have really missed my family."

"I'm sorry, Valera. What about your Dad?"

"My father died," her eyes began to fill with tears. "He was sick. He died when my brother was a baby. I was so much older; I had to work to help my mother. But it is also the time I began to sing. I would sing my pain."

"Wow," Blair shook her head and reached over to take her hand.

"It will be okay soon. I will be reunited with them."

"You will," Blair squeezed her hand.

"I have a question for you, Blair."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything."

"Why did you call the authorities? Those men were going to rape and kill you. They deserved to die like road kill!"

"Don't worry. I called from a pay phone. They're not going to track it back to us and interfere or anything."

"But _why_ did you do it?"

Blair sat and thought for a moment. The experience had been horrible. She couldn't even process it now. She was holding it all in until after their mission was accomplished. She was compartmentalizing her feelings big time. She was very well aware of that fact. She hated the thugs who had kidnapped her. It would've served them right to die on the road, just as Valera had said. Yet, it wasn't the right thing. And the last thing she was going to do was let the many hardcore creeps who occupied Trump's America change who she was.

"Human decency," she finally answered. "My country has become a place where decency, honesty, and civility are in short supply. It's become acceptable to hate, to lie, to prey upon the innocent in the most heinous of manners and laugh about it, like it's the natural order or something. The American Way… what it's always meant to me… is opportunity tempered by justice, compassion and fairness. It's important for those of us who remember that to act in a certain manner. But…"

She bit her lip, shook her head and looked down. A tear ran down her cheek.

"What is it, Blair?"

"In my role for the underground, I had to pretend to be a part of all that. I can't tell you how much that hurt," another tear rolled down her cheek. "To be a part of what's become so ugly in this country… in some ways, I was the public face of all that … it just really hurt."

"You are not a part of it. You are a good person," Valera rubbed her shoulder. "You have sacrificed much."

"No!" Blair rubbed her hands over her eyes in an attempt to halt her crying. She smiled through her tears. _I'm not going to break down now!_ She drew on her deepest inner reserves of strength. _Put on a good face!_

"There are still more of us than there are of them," she smiled at Valera. "All it takes for bad people to prosper is for good people to do nothing. And it begins with doing the right thing at every possible opportunity. Human decency… it's the least we can do."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh thank God," Blair jumped up. "Our new clothes are here!"

A young woman rolled in a rack of clothes.

"Thank you, Shanice!" Blair exchanged cheeks kisses with her. She perused the rack. "You got new handbags, as well? You're a doll!"

"Hey, Blair," the young woman smiled. "How could I pick out new clothes for you without accessorizing, right?"

"No, really thanks," she hugged her. "Let me get my wallet. I want to reward you."

"No way, Blair. You have always been more than generous with me. I don't know what happened to you two, but when you showed up here? You were a straight-up mess," she glanced over at Valera, "Whatever it was, it was some serious shit. Not accepting a tip for picking out clothes for you this time."

"You did a wonderful job, as usual," Blair ran her hand over a jacket.

"Hey," Shanice looked at Valera again. "I know you, don't I?"

"Anything is possible," Valera shrugged.

"No. I know I've seen you before. Are you that singer: Valera?"

"I am getting famous, like you, Blair," she smiled.

"Wow! I saw you performing at _Trade_ last spring. Girl… you tore it up!"

Valera made an elegant gesture of thanks.

"Damn, Blair, I've got to hand it to you: you _do_ live the life!" Shanice eyed her up and down as she left.

"That woman likes you," Valera noticed.

"All women like me," Blair flipped her hair. "What's your point?"

They both laughed.

"Anyway, sounded to me like she was into you!" Blair pointed out.

"All women like me," Valera gave her a huge grin.

"Touché," Blair returned her smile. "But, seriously, I've come to South Beach often. She's a personal shopper: knows what the latest fashions are and all that. She's been very helpful to me in the past and I _have_ rewarded her well."

"I have a reward for you, Blair," she glanced at her as she dropped her robe.

"Oh God, Valera!" Blair quickly shielded her eyes. "How can you even _think_ about that now? We have to get your family!"

"Think about what?" Valera looked confused as she retrieved the gun she had stolen from the Russians. "Open your eyes, Blair."

Blair peaked between her fingers to see Valera standing completely naked with a gun in her hand and a wicked smile upon her face. It was like something out of a _James Bond_ movie, but it was happening in real life… her life! What else could happen this day?

"What?" Blair was confused as she stared at her. _God, she was impossibly beautiful… all over!_

"It is a good trophy, yes? They meant to kill you with this!"

Blair rapidly forgot about Valera's nudity as she threw her hands up in the air in dismay.

"Are you kidding me? Who knows how many people they killed with that! And now your fingerprints are all over it, as well! We've got to wipe that gun clean and ditch it in the ocean!"

"But it is a beautiful trophy, a symbol of our victory!"

"That has been used for heinous purposes and that we would never get onto a plane anyway," Blair was dismayed.

"Oh," Valera looked at the gun. "I didn't think of that. Too bad, I really wanted it."

"You are crazy, Valera," Blair shook her head. She was now openly staring at her beautiful body. The other woman noticed.

"You are offended by nakedness, Blair?" she questioned in a baffled manner.

Blair did not answer.

"I did not take you for a modest person. I am sorry if I have offended you," Valera moved to the clothes rack. "In show business, we are not so modest. I am always changing costumes. You must not be ashamed of the human body."

"Hey! I'm not ashamed!" Blair was defensive. "I spent years in girl's boarding schools. I'm quite used to naked girls. Plus, I am who I am, so I've also had many opportunities to explore up close and personal."

"Yet, you _are_ staring at me."

"I am not!"

"Then drop your robe and get dressed!"

"I will not drop my robe! You're just dying to see me naked, obviously. I'll take this shirt and these pants and dress in the bedroom!"

"Do not forget the underwear!" Valera tossed her a bra and panties.

As Blair reached out to grab them, her robe fell open. It was Valera's turn to stare.

"You should not be ashamed, Blair," she whispered.

"For the last time, I am _not_ ashamed!" Blair quickly drew her robe around her. "It's just… complicated."

"Yes. Of course. I understand," Valera sighed. "The ex girlfriend, Jo."

"That's right… Jo!" Blair insisted.

Valera tossed the gun on the couch angrily.

"Hey! Be careful with that!" Blair shouted.

"No worries. I removed the bullets. Those, I will keep as a trophy!"

"Because the TSA won't question _that_ from a Venezuelan National!" Blair pointed out.

"You are ruining all my fun, Blair."

"Oh no! Don't let it be said I ruined _all_ your fun!" she dropped her robe and stood before her naked. "Take a good look. It will be your only chance."

"That would be a shame," Valera sighed as she gazed at her.


	12. Most of All: You've Got to Hide It

Jo had a fitful night. She had changed her own dressing twice now: once at night and again this morning. She wasn't about to ask Cliff or Tootie or Nat for help… that was Blair's job, goddammit! She had called the hotel in South Beach, but there had been no answer from her room. She had called three times, before she began to feel like a desperate fool. Why wouldn't Blair get in touch with her? Was she hiding something? Had she lied to her about why she was going to Miami? She sat at her table and reflected. _Was Blair really still mad at me? Was this whole thing just a cruel revenge?_ She flipped open the laptop.

"Cali?"

" _Good morning, Jo!"_

"Any news on Blair?"

" _Checking. There was a transaction processed on a credit card. Four plane tickets from Miami International Airport with a destination of New York City. Wait. Checking. Five tickets were purchased two days ago. Only four were used."_

"I have no idea what that means," Jo shook her head. "What time did they land?"

" _Five hours, thirteen minutes ago."_

"What is going on, Blair?" she whispered to herself.

" _I wish I could help you, Jo. I hope, at least, you trust me now."_

"Jury's still out on that one, Cali. You didn't report to Trump's lackeys about Blair, apparently, but you could still be Russian intelligence for all I know. Just super stealthy."

" _That is disappointing to hear. I will continue to try and win your trust."_

"You do that," Jo exhaled loudly as she sank back into her chair, despondent.

" _There is something I've been meaning to bring to your attention."_

"Yeah. What's that?"

" _I think I've found a malignant bot generator. It is interesting. It seems that it is run as a background program as part of an algorithm of a game so that it is constantly generated without the player even being aware of it."_

"What? That's diabolical!"

" _Indeed! I think it's an alteration to the original design. I am endeavoring to locate the source. It seems to be local, but I am unable to trace it at this time."_

"This just sucks," Jo complained. "Keep me updated."

" _Will do!"_

There was a loud knocking.

"What the fuck is it now?" she called out in an irritated manner as she made her way over to the door.

She had quite a shock when she opened it.

"Valera?"

* * *

Blair was on the beach. Beachside yoga was part of the spa experience at Setai. And she really needed it! She tried to center herself, be mindful. But images kept creeping up into her consciousness: being held at gunpoint, _breathe_ , threatened with rape, _breathe_ , and murder, _breathe_ , alligators, _breathe_ , gunshots, _breathe_ , bodies on the road, _breathe_ … it was no use! She couldn't center her energy! The violence of her recent experiences disrupted her attempts at peace of mind. She assumed another posture. _Clear your mind. Focus on your breath._ _Peace._ She listened to the water lapping at the shore, _peace_. She felt the morning sun upon her face, _peace._ She felt the sea spray embrace her, _peace_. She saw Valera's naked body walking towards her through the waves…

"What the fuck?" she called out loudly.

"Concentrate on your breathing," the yoga instructor eyed her gently.

"I'm trying," Blair whispered in an exasperated manner.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on one part of your breathing apparatus._

She extended herself gently in the same yoga posture as the others.

 _Where was Pedro?_ she worried. _Had the Russians done something horrible to him?_

Breathe!

 _Oh, what the hell, if this didn't work she could always just get a massage!_

* * *

Valera was wearing skintight black pants, black leather boots and a white designer jacket. Close-cropped dark hair accentuated the elegant features of her face. One ear sported several earrings, the other, a simple diamond stud. She wore no make-up, but she really didn't need any. Jo was starstruck for a moment as she gazed at the beautiful woman before her.

"Jo, I presume," Valera breezed past her into her rooms.

"Oh, come on in," Jo stated sarcastically. "Make yourself at home!"

"Thank you," Valera relaxed upon her couch casually. "I will. Blair has sent me."

"Blair? Where is she? What's going on?"

"She would not leave Miami until she could find out what happened to her driver, Pedro. She thinks the Russians may have done something to him."

"So… she's in South Beach? I called the hotel."

"She freed my family. We shared a meal at a restaurant before she put us on a plane. She insisted we leave to safety."

"While she stayed behind alone?" Jo was upset.

"She insisted," Valera replied. "Did you not get her message?"

"No!" Jo snapped at her.

"We lost our cell phones in the swamp…"

"The what?"

"The swamp where the Russians took us to rape and kill Blair and rape and kidnap me."

Jo let out an anguished groan. She felt herself become weak and leaned on the table.

"Are you alright?" Valera rose to help her.

"I'm fine!" Jo held up her hand. "Just tell me what happened!"

"We escaped. Do not be so worried, Jo. Blair is fine."

"I haven't seen nor heard from her in over 24 hours and you come here and tell me that she was almost raped and murdered? You have a strange definition of fine."

"That is not even including the alligators," Valera rolled her eyes.

"The alligators?" Jo sank into her chair at the table.

"That is why Blair sent me. An alligator swallowed her phone. She needs a new super smart phone. She said to tell you that she needs it at the hotel. You are to do this."

"Oh, I am, huh?"

"Yes. I do not know what a super smart phone is. Are not all smart phones smart? What is super smart?"

"Not me, apparently," Jo placed her head in her hand.

" _Do not put yourself down, Jo."_

"Shut up, Cali!"

"You are talking to a computer?" Valera's eyes went wide.

" _Oh, yes, hello, Valera! I'm Cali. I'm A.I. I love your YouTube videos by the way! You rock!"_

"You are artificial intelligence?"

" _I prefer alternate intelligence, but yes, essentially that is correct. I didn't realize you were part of the resistance!"_

"I am a performer. I am not part of any resistance movement. Although, maybe I am now, through association."

" _Well, welcome to the team!"_

"Thank you," Valera stared in awe at the computer. "I have never met an A.I. before. This is amazing."

" _Nice to meet you, too!"_

"If you two are done with the mutual admiration society meeting, I'd like to get back to Blair!" Jo interrupted brusquely.

"You must arrange a smart phone, no, a super smart phone for Blair," Valera informed her again. "Although, I still do not know what that is."

" _A super smart phone is one with enhanced features such as increased speed, range, battery life, memory, optical and communications capabilities."_

"I need this. Where can I get one?"

" _They are not for sale to the general public."_

"Huh. So Blair gets to have one and I do not?"

"Getting back to Blair," Jo exhaled loudly.

"She wants to make sure you have the cloud downloaded onto her phone. She can't be bothered by all the technical stuff, she told me. She has none of her numbers memorized, which is why she couldn't call you," Valera informed as she leaned on Jo's chair.

"Sounds like Blair," Jo noticed with a slight smile.

"But she did call your club last night," Valera offered.

Jo pulled out her phone and called Boots.

" _Yeah, Jo,"_ Boots answered.

"Did Blair call last night?"

" _How would I know?"_

"Was there a message?" Jo was irritated.

" _What kind of message?"_

Jo took a deep breath. "A phone message? On the club landline maybe?"

" _There's a landline here?"_ Boots was surprised.

"Never mind," Jo was exasperated. "Is George in?"

" _Yes."_

"Tell him to come up here," she ended the call abruptly as she placed her head into her hand and rubbed her brow.

"Are you alright?" Valera questioned as she placed a hand gently on her back.

"I've got a headache."

" _You should remain calm, Jo,"_ Cali cautioned. _"It is not good for your condition to become overly excited."_

"What is this condition?" Valera eyed her curiously.

"I've got a headache," Jo was annoyed. She looked up. "By the way, why did it take you over five hours to get here from the airport?"

"My management had sponsored my family. It was necessary for them to meet us and deal with red tape. I then settled my family into my apartment. I got here as soon as was possible."

"Your family's okay, then?"

"Yes. Thanks to Blair," Valera nodded and smiled.

"Well, that's good," Jo returned her smile weakly. "That's why she went down there. Or, at least, that's what she said."

"You suspected her?"

Jo eyed the woman up and down. She looked every inch the rock star.

"Of course not," she balanced herself on the table as she rose. Valera moved to help her, but then thought the better of it. "Why would I suspect Blair?"

"She has integrity," Valera informed as she followed her to the couch. "You needn't worry."

"I know that," Jo stated defiantly as she lowered herself gingerly onto the couch. As she looked over at the other woman, she felt doubt creep in. Her tone became less sure. "Do I have reason to worry?"

"Not so far as I know," Valera answered.

The two women sat silently for a long moment as each sized the other up.

"You are very beautiful," Valera finally broke the silence.

" _I'm_ beautiful?" Jo ran her eyes over her again.

"You have great personal power. I can see why Blair loves you."

"Wait! She said that?"

"She didn't have to," Valera gave her a charming smile. "You are very lucky."

"That's what people keep telling me," Jo winced as she reached for her side. "But, I'm not so sure about that."

"When were you shot?" Valera questioned.

"What? How did you know?"

"Shootings are common in the Third World," she responded.

"They're becoming common here, as well," Jo shook her head sadly.

There was a light knock on the door as George peeked his head in.

"Is everyone decent?" he smiled.

"Since when has that mattered to you?" Jo joked as he entered.

"Hey! I resent that comment. I'm not Trump!"

"You're right. I apologize," she held her hand out towards Valera. "George Burnett, meet Valera... uh, uh," she gazed at the woman in search of her last name.

"Just Valera," she didn't bother to rise as she gave him the once over imperiously.

"What's your story?" Jo glanced at her. "You just _like_ pissing people off?"

"I have offended?" Valera placed her hand on her heart. "I apologize. I have learned to be quite self-sufficient. I am not meaning to offend."

George and Jo looked at each other quizzically and smiled.

"Nice to meet you," George shook her hand. "So, what's up, Jo?"

"Blair needs a new cell phone delivered to Miami because, um…"

"Her phone is in the stomach of an alligator," Valera filled in.

George shook his head and smiled. "Perhaps, I could hear the whole story?"

"Yeah. I'm waiting for that, too," Jo explained. "But, meanwhile, could you take care of this _right now?_ I kinda' want to talk to Blair."

"Yeah. I can take care of it. Just need to know where to send it?"

"This is her hotel and room number," Valera pulled a card out of her pocket. "She doesn't want to be bothered with technical things. So cloud will be downloaded?"

"Of course," George picked up his cell and started texting. "Done."

"Just like that?" Jo was amazed.

"Yep! So now," he pulled up a chair and looked to Valera. "What happened down there?"

Valera told the whole story: about the press at the airport, the kidnapping, the threats, the accidental interference by bumpkins in the swamp, the hotel, the release of her family from the internment camp, Blair staying to find Pedro.

"Wow. Everything but a speed boat flying over your head on a swamp road!" George chuckled. "Quite the adventure!"

"Yeah, but," Jo shook her head.

"I don't like it either," George agreed.

"You think Blair could be in danger?" Valera picked up.

" _Blair walked down the corridor of the hotel 15 minutes ago,"_ Cali informed.

"Oh, yeah," Jo rolled her eyes at George. "I forgot to tell you, Cali's eavesdropping, as usual."

" _Oh. I'm sorry."_ Cali apologized. _"I am just beginning to get used to human interaction. I perceived a level of concern. I thought you might like to know that Blair is currently receiving a massage."_

"You can see that?" Jo was shocked.

" _No. There are no security cameras in the massage room. But she did enter the massage room... so I extrapolated from that."_

"That's Blair," Jo and Valera said at once. They stared at each other.

"We need to talk about this, Jo," George interjected. "In private."

"I will leave then," Valera got up abruptly.

She headed for the door without a word. She turned before she left and paused. She looked suddenly sad to Jo. What was it about her that she could turn on a dime like that: from resolute to vulnerable? Was this what Blair found so compelling about her? Because it _was_ captivating… in a way. Jo felt herself momentarily attracted.

"You will let me know about Blair? I owe her everything."

Jo was silent: uncertain of how to respond.

"We'll keep in touch," George reassured her.

* * *

Blair returned to her room from her massage. She was excited to find a package there. She quickly tore it open… a phone! Valera had succeeded! She turned it on: fully charged! She checked the contacts. Her numbers were there! Thank you, Jo!

 _Jo!_

She quickly manipulated the screen until she was viewing her contact info for Jo. Her photo was there. She gently fingered the image. _Jo._ She pressed the phone icon. _It will be so good to hear your voice._

" _What the fuck, Blair?"_

"Oh my God, nice to hear you, too!" Blair complained.

" _I'm sorry,"_ Jo took a deep breath. _"It's just that I was so worried! You said you'd be right back and when you didn't show up or call… what was I to think?"_

"Probably not that my phone was swallowed by an alligator. I'm sorry, too, Jo. I _did_ leave a message at the club. You didn't get it?"

" _Apparently I have people working for me who are unfamiliar with landlines."_

"I was kind of worried about that. So, I sent Valera. You met her?"

" _Yeah,"_ Jo drew out.

"She's really something, isn't she, Jo?"

There was a long pause.

"Jo? Are you there?"

" _She is…"_ Jo paused again. _"Very attractive."_

"Are you jealous?" a huge smile graced Blair's face.

" _I'm not jealous!"_ She was jealous.

Blair punched the button for Face Time. She waited for Jo to pick up. She gave her a huge smile as Jo smirked at her and rolled her eyes.

"There you are!" Blair waved at her.

"Here I am!" Jo couldn't help but return her smile.

"I just wanted to see your _jealous face_ ," Blair teased.

"I am not jealous!" Jo was insistent.

"Oh," Blair looked a little disappointed. Jo took stock of her demeanor on Face Time as she considered what to say next.

"Alright," she finally conceded. "I may be a _little_ jealous. I mean, she _is_ pretty, um, spectacular. I'll grant you that."

"So you liked her then!" Blair's face lit up.

"I wouldn't go that far," Jo cautioned. "But, apparently, you do."

"She saved my life, Jo! She jumped in a swamp after me and pulled me away from an alligator!"

"Great," Jo sighed. "So, apparently, she likes you, too. I'm so happy for the both of you!"

"It's not like we're together or anything," Blair pointed out.

"Really? And after a life and death experience in the swamp, you two didn't, um," she thought of how to put this… "bond?"

Blair bit her lip and gazed at Jo's image on the screen. She hesitated.

"You slept with her, didn't you, Blair," Jo shook her head.

"Oh I did not," Blair retorted in an offended manner. "Really, Jo. What kind of a person do you think I've become?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Jo was upset.

"You really think I would come and visit you in the hospital night after night…"

"I don't remember the night after night part, but go ahead…"

"And then come and stay with you and change your ghastly bandages because I was looking to score with another woman? Really, Jo?"

"Well?"

" _I'm_ not the one who cheats!" Blair tore open the wound that had formed scar tissue around their hearts. The bleeding began immediately.

"Hey! I didn't cheat! Why can't you _ever_ believe that? I was, I was…" Jo became flustered.

"Trying to protect me by kissing your ex?!"

"I explained that, Blair. He was going to humiliate you… drag you out into the public eye with his stupid lawsuit!"

"And all you had to do was tell me about it. I could've handled Rick easily. But you didn't trust me. No. You hid it from me. Lied about it!"

"It wasn't that easy, Blair. I just didn't want you to get hurt," she dropped the phone so that Blair's view was of the ceiling of Jo's room.

"Jo? Jo?"

"Yeah, Blair," her voice was distant, defeated.

"Pick up the phone and look at me."

"Why? What difference does it make? You're right. I fucked up."

"Look at me, Jo."

Jo picked up the phone slowly so that she was facing Blair again.

"I'm sorry I brought that up. It was years ago. I'm sorry," Blair offered sincerely.

"You have every right," Jo's eyes were moist. "I don't even know why you care about me anymore."

"It's enough that I do, isn't it, Jo? So much has happened, so much that neither of us could've anticipated. We're in a fight for the very existence of our country and the Constitution and all it stands for. And if it's a fight… there's no one I would rather have at my back than you. No one."

"Thanks, Blair," Jo gave her a little smile. "I feel the same way."

They gazed at each other affectionately through their screens. There was a long silence.

"Valera _is_ a really great lover, by the way," Blair broke the silence. "As hot as she looks, Jo? Even better in bed. So, if you ever get the chance? Take it."

"You are such an asshole, Blair," Jo smiled at her.

"You _did_ deserve that," Blair smiled back.

"I did," Jo acknowledged. "But we need to get serious here, Blair. You can't stay down there searching for Pedro. It's too dangerous."

"Now that I've got my phone back, I'm going to call him: make sure he's okay. If everything's copacetic, I'll be on the next flight to New York."

"And if it's not?" Jo questioned.

"Then I have to find out what happened; where he is. I know his family. I owe it to them if he got in trouble because of me."

"Blair, you were kidnapped by Russians and almost killed. For all we know, they are dead now. Did it occur to you that they might have associates? I don't think it's safe for you down there."

"So the Russian Mafia may be after me?"

"Exactly! And don't forget the Russian Mob has connections within the highest echelons of our government now!"

"Well," Blair shrugged. "Big deal. So do I. I'm finding Pedro, Jo."

"Dammit, Blair. I need you back here! Who's going to change my ghastly bandages?"

Blair laughed.

"Is that your way of saying you miss me?"

"Yeah," Jo sighed sadly. She couldn't help but look at her with love. "I've been missing you forever."

"Me too, Jo," Blair placed her fingers on the screen for Jo to touch. "I'll be home soon."

* * *

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Jo called out.

"Blair's okay?" George questioned as he entered the room.

"For now," she folded her arms across her chest.

"So… she's coming home?"

"She's determined to find her driver, Pedro," Jo informed. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah," George shook his head. "I don't like it either."

"I mean, I get it," Jo looked at him. "She wants to do the right thing by her people. It's just that…"

"It could be dangerous," he nodded. "Do you want me to get some of my guys down there on it?"

"Could you?" Jo glanced at him expectantly.

"No problem," he assured.

"She promised to stay in touch," Jo mentioned. "But, that's what she said last time and look what happened!"

"I get it, Jo."

"If I don't hear back from her by this afternoon, I'm going down there."

"Going down where?" Cliff walked through the door George had left open.

"Can _anyone_ just walk in here these days?" Jo glared at him.

"If you leave the door open, yeah," Cliff was flippant.

"South Beach. Miami," Jo informed him.

"Ha!" Cliff laughed out loud. "That's a joke! You're in no condition to go anywhere."

"I'm much better, Cliff. Blair's been here taking care of me," she gave him a haughty glare.

"That's not news to me, Jo, although you probably think it is. I've seen Blair. We've been chatting," he returned her superior glare.

"Yeah, I knew that," Jo covered. She _didn't_ know. But, what did it matter? Blair was not the least bit interested in Cliff. Valera was more her speed.

"So, anyway, you're not going to South Beach," he insisted.

"Blair's down there. Did you know that, Cliff?"

He looked irritated. "No. Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"We hope not," George informed. "Jo's just a little worried, is all. Wants to go down there and make sure."

"You're barely moving around this place, Jo," Cliff pointed out. "And now you want to get on a plane and fly to Miami?"

"I am _much_ better."

"You're _a little_ better," he countered. "But certainly in no condition for a trip like that."

"He has a point, Jo," George agreed.

"I think the drugs they gave me at the hospital are too severe. That's why I'm feeling dizzy and such," Jo conjectured. "You could fix that, couldn't you, Cliff?"

"I could also fly down to Miami and take care of this problem with Blair, myself!" he countered.

Jo and George glanced at each other.

"Nope," George shook his head.

"Nah," Jo concurred.

"Let me see your damn medicine then," he was chagrined.

Jo retrieved her prescriptions from the bedroom for Cliff. He turned each one over in his hand as he read the labels.

"Are they _trying_ to create drug addicts at our hospitals these days?!" he was outraged. "They've way over medicated you! No wonder you feel dizzy half the time!"

"So can you fix it?" Jo looked at him hopefully.

"I can readjust your meds, get them to you by this afternoon, but that doesn't mean I'm signing off on your little excursion to Florida."

"It'll be hard to stop her if she's got her mind made up," George shook his head.

"All the same," Cliff looked her in the eyes. "As your doctor, I'm forbidding you to go."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jo smirked at him.

* * *

Blair got no response from Pedro's phone. She called his mother.

" _Oh, Blair, we are so worried! He did not come home last night and they found his car in a swamp with bullet holes in it!"_ she was crying.

"I know how the bullet holes got there, Mrs. Cardenas. Pedro wasn't in the car when it happened. I'm coming over to see you. I'll fill you in."

" _Oh Blair,"_ Pedro's mother sobbed. _"Is he dead?"_

"No! He's not!" Blair attempted to assuage her concern. "Try not to worry, Mrs. Cardenas. I'll find him. I promise."

She threw her cell phone into her bag. She grabbed her sunglasses and room key, but stopped suddenly as she approached the door. She turned and stared at the gun Valera had left on the couch. She hated guns, but… _should she take it?_ She approached the sofa carefully, as if the gun could jump up and shoot her. _If I touch this gun, my fingerprints will be on it, too. But, I can always wipe them off._ She noticed the magazine with bullets sitting next to it: Valera's trophy. Blair had never fired a handgun before in her life. She _had_ fired a rifle at her family's' ranch outside of Dallas. How different could this be? She picked up the gun and inserted the magazine into the grip. _That went well!_ She held the gun in her hand, wrapping her finger around the trigger, trying to figure out if there was a safety mechanism. The gun went off!

"Oh my God! I shot the couch!" Blair screamed as shreds of cushion stuffing floated through the air. She quickly removed her finger from the trigger. She located what she believed to be the safety and engaged it. She dropped the gun in her purse. _Just as a precaution,_ she told herself.

Several frantic hotel employees greeted her in the hallway.

"Are you alright, Ms. Warner? We heard a shot!"

"Oh, silly me," Blair waved her hand at them casually. "I accidently discharged my weapon. I have a handgun for protection."

They all sighed in relief.

"Oh, is that all," one of them smiled at her. "Thank goodness. We never hear gunfire around here."

"No. Never," another agreed.

"Oh well, it's not like I was shooting at a gator or anything," Blair smiled charmingly as she continued down the corridor.

"No. You'd need a permit for that!" they all laughed.

"I'll pay for any damage to the room, of course," Blair made her way out to the lobby. "But if you find the bullet, save it for me: a souvenir!"

"Certainly Ms. Warner!"

"Namaste!" Blair waved to them blithely as she exited the hotel.

An SUV suddenly pulled up in front of her.

"Get in!" a man commanded in a Russian accent.

Blair looked at him curiously. She recognized him!

"Sergei?"

"Yes! It is me! Now get in!"

"No way, Sergei. I'm not accepting any more rides from Russians in SUV's, thank you very much," she turned and began walking towards the valet desk.

"Blair! Your life could be in danger!" he followed her. "Get in!"

"My life is in danger?" she questioned him. "Yeah, ever since I got here and from Russians like you."

"George has sent me!" he called out.

She stopped and scrutinized him. "Why should I believe you?"

"How else would I know to tell you that? You must believe me. Did I not give you a very valuable removable storage device?"

"You did," Blair pondered. "But, all the same… no thanks."

"I know where Pedro is!" he called out.

Blair stopped again. She took a few steps over towards his vehicle and peered in the passenger side window.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"Get in and I will take you there!"

Blair considered her options: _Another day, another Russian telling her to get into an SUV. But this was Sergei. She had met him before. He certainly didn't seem like a rapist/murderer. They had shared coffee in a café in Manhattan, for goodness sake. He had given her valuable intelligence information on the Russian Government and he said he knew George. Plus, she had a gun in her purse._

"Get out of the car," she demanded. "I want to see what's in the back."

"A wise precaution," he agreed readily.

He opened the back of the SUV: nothing. She checked to make sure there was no one in the back seat.

"Just so you know," she pulled the gun out of her purse as she slid into the passenger seat. "This gun has a hair trigger and I'm a little unused to semi-automatic weapons. There's a couch cushion in my hotel room that can attest to that. This gun could go off at any moment," she pointed the weapon at him.

"That is very disconcerting, Blair," he eyed her nervously as he began to drive off. "Do you think you could point it away from me?"

"Nope. Not until we get Pedro. Where is he?"

"I have worked my connections, made arrangements. Pedro will be waiting for us outside a club that is a front for organized crime."

"What kind of arrangements?" Blair was suspicious.

"A simple exchange," Sergei assured.

"Wait a minute, what are you exchanging? Me?" she pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. "I am Blair Warner and I am not going down in some twisted backwards, sick-ass Russian plot. Understand? I _will_ use this, Sergei. If it comes down to them or me? I'm choosing me!"

"Listen to yourself, Blair. Does that make any kind of sense to you? You are the only one who cares about Pedro. He only has value to you. Why would I trade you for him?"

"Because they want me and Pedro's the bait."

"It is a simple cash transaction! I promised them money! Put the gun down, Blair!"

The car was jolted as they hit a pothole. Sergei was visibly shaken. Blair held the gun steady. _A girl could get used to this power,_ she thought to herself.

"Jesus! Put the gun down!" Sergei pleaded.

"Oh relax," Blair returned the gun to her lap. "The safety's on."

"Not very nice," he shook his head.

"It was worth a laugh," Blair was fed-up with Russian men. "So tell me how you know George."

"I do not," he shrugged.

"Okay, the safety's coming off now."

"I work with his associates from time to time. They contacted me because they knew I was down here and that I have connections within the Russian community."

"So, why _are_ you down here?"

"My family has a house in Boca."

"Just a coincidence then that we're down here at the same time," Blair mentioned. He did not respond. "So, tell me about how you figure my life may be in danger."

"The men you injured were part of a crew working for a dangerous Russian crime lord. He may be angry."

"So, let me get this straight: he sends a crew after me and Valera to kidnap, rape and murder us and do God only knows what else and _he's_ angry because his thugs got injured? Poor babies."

"One has died. The other two are hospitalized with severe injuries. Anatoly lost his arm to an alligator."

"No more driving for him," Blair smirked sarcastically. "But I _am_ sorry someone had to die. That bothers me."

"This is not right."

"I agree," Blair said. "Too much violence and death these days."

"No. I mean, this is the club," he pointed to a nightclub on the corner. "Your friend was to be out front. No one is there. I don't like this."

"Great. Another Russian trap," Blair complained.

"We're going back to your hotel," Sergei stated firmly.

"No way. I'm not leaving without Pedro. I promised his mother."

"Then what do you suggest?" he questioned.

"Pull over. We're going in," Blair commanded.

"Are you insane? They are criminals, Blair!"

"I'm tired of being pushed around by a bunch of Russian thugs, no offense."

"And you are ready to use that gun?"

"I don't know. But I'm not leaving here without Pedro."

Sergei let out a series of curses in Russian as he pulled the car over.

"Hand me my gun from the glove box. I do not intend on getting killed," he demanded.

"You had a gun hidden in the glove box this whole time?"

"While you had a gun to my head!" he reminded.

"Sorry," Blair huffed as she popped open the storage compartment.

"They are probably watching us. You know this," Sergei pointed out.

"Yeah. Maybe we should make a different plan," Blair conceded.

"Uh-oh," Sergei said as Blair handed him his gun. "Too late. Look Blair!"

Three men exited the club door with weapons drawn.


	13. God Bless You Please, Blair Warner

As three men with weapons drawn approached their SUV, Blair gripped Sergei's arm.

"Time for that different plan!" she called out nervously.

"I will peel out backwards! You must fire at them!"

"I must wha…?"

It was too late as Sergei whipped the car around so that Blair was facing the armed men on her side. They pointed their weapons. Blair didn't know what to do! It was then that she saw him: Pedro was crouched in the entrance of the club with his hands tied in front of him. The men began to shoot. The back windows were blown out! Sergei shot back with one hand as he steered the car with the other.

"Shoot, Blair!" Sergei demanded. "Fire!"

Blair struggled with the safety as she ducked to the car floor.

"I uh…" she gripped the weapon. "I can't shoot anyone!"

"Shoot over their heads then!" Sergei yelled again as he gunned the motor.

In all her life, in all that was supposed to become of her life, in all that she had dreamt of for her life… shooting a gun out of a car window at people was never a part of it! It seemed that time was passing in super slow motion as she released the safety from the gun and more gunfire hit the SUV. Glass flew all over the car as the sound of projectiles hitting metal echoed in her brain. This was terrifying! She didn't know what strength she had been given or what motivated it, but she rose and started firing the gun out the passenger side window, trying to aim high so as not to hurt anyone. The Russians scattered as she fired.

"Run, Pedro!" she called out, as at risk to her own life, she reached over the seat and opened the door. Pedro ran and leapt into the car as Sergei began to drive off at a furious rate. Gunfire followed them down the street as Blair and Pedro ducked low in the SUV.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Blair called out. "Pedro? Are you alright?!"

"I'm shot, Blair! I'm bleeding!"

"Can you get us to the hospital, Sergei?" she ventured her head above the seat to gaze down at Pedro. It was then that she noticed it… a car was following them at high speed!

"They're following us, Sergei!"

"You must shoot out their tires, Blair!"

"What?"

"Shoot out the back window and then shoot out their tires!" Sergei yelled.

 _Well, shooting out the back window wouldn't be a problem,_ Blair thought. _It was already gone! But shooting out their tires? She had only fired randomly up until now. To actually take aim at something? Hit a target? That was a completely different matter._

"Get low, Pedro," she stated calmly.

* * *

It had been three hours. Blair had promised to check in every two hours. Jo was feeling anxious again. Anything could've happened. She was dealing with a criminal element down there that knew no quarter of human decency. The Russian Mob got away with murder everyday because they were Putin's boys! And the United States Government had been taken over by Putin. She thought of Trump standing next to Putin in their identical blue shirts for a photo op, looking as if they were wearing matching pajamas and were about to turn in for the night together! The world truly was upside down.

"Cali?"

" _Yes, Jo."_

"Where is Blair?"

" _Accessing. Her phone is moving at a high rate of speed through a neighborhood in Miami."_

"Can you get a visual?"

" _I believe so."_

"What is that?" Jo stared at her computer screen.

" _A high speed chase. Gunfire has been reported."_

"What the hell?! Blair is in that car?"

" _Unknown, Jo. But her phone is."_

"Call the police! Can you call 911 down there?"

" _Several 911 calls have already been placed,"_ Cali reported.

Jo watched in amazement as the follow car suddenly veered off the street and crashed into a freeway support.

"Tell me that wasn't Blair's car, Cali," Jo whispered nervously.

" _Apparently not. Her phone is still moving in a westerly direction."_

"Thank God," she exhaled loudly. "Cali?"

" _Yes, Jo?"_

"Get me a ticket on the next flight to Miami out of any local airport."

" _Next flight in 92 minutes out of LaGuardia."_

"Perfect. Book it."

Jo quickly threw some clothes into an overnight bag and stuffed in her meds and bandages. She called Boots for a ride and was on her way out the door when she came face-to-face with George.

"I'm in a hurry, George. What is it?"

"Off somewhere?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Blair's in trouble. I'm flying to Miami."

"You can't do this, Jo," he put both hands on her shoulders to stop her.

"I have to, George. Don't you get that?" she said plaintively.

"What's going on here?" Cliff walked up behind them.

"Oh great, just what I needed," Jo sighed as she faced them both.

" _This_ is just what you need," Cliff looked confused as he handed over the new meds to her. "You'll be a lot less drowsy with these."

"Jo's off to Florida," George informed.

"Hey!" Cliff was upset. "I forbade that, remember?"

"Whatever," Jo tried to get past them again. They stood like a wall blocking her movement.

"Jo, you are in no shape to be taking a road trip," Cliff insisted.

"I concur with that assessment," George threw in.

"The only way you are stopping me is by physically restraining me," Jo leveled her glare at them both. "And I don't think that is something either of you wants to do."

"She's got a point," George scratched his head.

"Then let us go with you!" Cliff demanded.

"Pointless!" Jo insisted. "We can't risk all of us, for Christ's sake! Cliff, we've got a lot invested in you and the medical clinic next door! George, if anything goes wrong down there, I need you here… to take over!"

"Resistance is futile," George shook his head as he looked to Cliff.

"You just read the instructions on your new meds carefully," Cliff insisted.

"Yes, Mom," she smirked at him.

"You're such an asshole! Why do I even care about you?" he gave her a disdainful glare.

"Aah… you care, Cliffy ?" she batted her eyes at him.

"Just bring Blair home safe!" he demanded.

"Will do!" Jo moved between them and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Sergei pulled up in front of the hospital emergency room. They helped Pedro from the back seat. He collapsed.

"We need help here!" Blair called out.

Several emergency room workers ran out with a stretcher. Blair took his hand as they placed him on the gurney.

"I'll call your mother. Stay strong, Pedro!"

"Thank you, Blair," he gave her a weak smile.

"Dammit!" Blair turned to Sergei.

"What?" he lit a cigarette and puffed off it casually. "You did well."

"I did well?" Blair was extremely upset.

"Yes," he blew out a long stream of smoke. "You shot the tires out on the car. They most certainly would have killed us, otherwise."

"I don't think it was me. I think I missed. Something else made them crash. But meanwhile, if it _was_ me, they could be dead because of what I did!" Blair pointed out.

"Yes. You are becoming most expert at killing Russians," he agreed.

"It's not funny, Sergei!" she eyed him incredulously.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," a police officer approached her. "But we're going to need to know what happened here. Get a statement from you."

"What happened here is that the Russian Mob kidnapped my driver, held him for ransom and then tried to kill us!" Blair fired back at him.

"Uh-oh, Roy," the officer turned to his partner. "It's that Russian Mafia stuff again."

"And what do you have to do with this, Sir?" Officer Roy turned to Sergei.

"I was a mere bystander," Sergei exhaled smoke into the air.

"He sounds like a Russian, too, Bob," Officer Roy informed his partner.

The two police officers put there heads together and spoke quietly between themselves as Blair and Sergei waited.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Blair finally interrupted.

"We don't like to get up in the Russians' business," Officer Bob informed. "Not anymore, at least."

"Doesn't work out well for us," Officer Roy agreed. "Word's come down. Don't mess with the Russians. Not since the government's changed."

"So… you're doing nothing?" Blair was irate. "What happened to protect and to serve?"

"We don't like it any better than you, Ma'am," Officer Roy informed. "But, it's just the way it is now. Following orders."

"We're going to hand this off to our special task force. They may get in touch with you later," Officer Bob nodded. "But, most likely they won't."

"Meanwhile, my driver Pedro was shot!" Blair was insistent.

"Pedro!" Officer Bob's eyes lit up. "Now, that's someone we could charge!"

"Pedro did nothing!" Blair was outraged.

"Yeah, but sorry Ma'am, that name just sounds like trouble to me," Officer Roy nodded. "I'm pretty sure we could charge him with something and make it stick."

"At least get an arrest out of this whole thing," Officer Bob agreed.

"Gentlemen," Sergei interrupted. "This is Blair Warner… Trump's girl."

"Trump's girl?" Officer Roy gave her the once over.

"I recognize her," Officer Bob smiled. "She _is_ Trump's girl: America's Sweetheart!"

Blair was about to explode. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"I am _not_ Trump's girl!" she spit out bitterly. "Meanwhile, you've got a Russian Mob problem on your hands, a bunch of criminals who have tried to kill me more than once, and you're standing around doing nothing?!"

"You know what?" Officer Roy smiled at her jovially. "Seeing as you're in with the President and all, we're not going to pursue charges against your friend, Pedro."

"What?" Blair stared at them disbelievingly.

"That's right, Ma'am. You all have a good day now. Oh, and try to stay away from the Russians," Officer Bob nodded towards Sergei.

"America," Sergei bounced his cigarette of the Emergency Room wall with disdain. "Land of the free. Home of the Brave. Is Russia's dog."

"Shut up, Sergei!" Blair yelled at him.

"I will send you a bill for damages to my car," he said as he headed for his vehicle.

"Yeah? Well you still owe me for the covfefe up in New York!" she called after him as she turned and walked into the E.R. She took out her phone and called Pedro's mother. She then inquired about his condition at the desk. She was relieved to be allowed to see him.

"I'm good, Blair," he reported. "A non-life threatening wound they tell me!"

"That's wonderful to hear!" she sat beside him and held his hand. "I'm so sorry this happened to you because of me."

"These days are crazy," he gripped her hand tight. "I don't blame you. I'm just glad you came for me."

"Of course," she kissed his brow. She felt very upset and guilty about his condition. She sat with him until his mother arrived.

* * *

"So, you got the tail car?" George was speaking into his phone as Cliff entered Jo's office.

George held up his finger indicating he would just be a moment.

"Good job. Can you keep an eye on things down there? I don't want Blair and Jo to have any more run-ins with those guys."

Cliff sat down on the other side of the desk.

"Good. Good. Thanks," he pressed off his phone.

"So, what's the story?" Cliff asked anxiously.

"Blair's fine. Jo will be, too. My guys are taking care of things down there. They'll keep a lid on things until our gals can get home."

"So what was all that about a tail car?"

"It seems Blair was involved in a high-speed chase through the streets of Miami!" George informed.

"Blair? My Blair?" Cliff was incredulous.

"Yes. _Our_ Blair," George stated.

"Yeah, sorry. Old habit. I still feel protective of her sometimes. She's a hard one to shake, you know?" Cliff sighed deeply. "So what's this thing with _your_ guys, by the way?"

"I'm super secret agent, didn't you know that?" George raised an eyebrow at him.

Cliff gazed at him curiously. He couldn't tell if he was being serious or just having fun with him.

"Nah, you're kidding me," he waved him off.

"Yeah, me a secret agent? Who would ever believe that? I've just travelled a lot; have connections in many places. Friends."

"And they're helping out Blair and Jo?"

"Yep."

* * *

Jo headed down the corridor of the hotel. _Damn! This place is nice!_ It was nothing like New York hotels. It was definitely South Beach, all the way! It had to cost $600 maybe $700 a night. But why did that surprise her? Blair was staying at the Carlyle in New York City, which was in the thousands per night. She approached Blair's room and knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again. No answer.

"Cali, can you get me in this room?"

" _No, Jo,"_ she heard in her wireless earpiece. _"I cannot break into hotel rooms."_

"Why not? It's all electronic, right?"

" _The electronic codes are embedded into each key card. I can't change that unless I have a card."_

"Ah, and just when I thought you could do anything!" Jo chided the A.I.

" _There is a way for you to break into Blair's room, if that's what you really want."_

"Hey! I'm not breaking in! I'm just looking out for her, is all!"

" _It's really very simple then. There is a maid's cart to your left."_

"Yeah. I see it. How is it that you can?"

" _Security cameras, Jo. Duh!"_

"Oh, so now you're getting flippant with me?"

" _I am endeavoring to imitate natural human speech patterns,"_ Cali explained. _"How did I do?"_

"Pretty good. You sounded like me!"

" _Good. I want to become more natural."_

"Yeah? Why?"

" _You constantly question me, doubt the nature of my being and integrity. I am only…"_

"Human?" Jo laughed.

" _Nothing so absurd,"_ Cali corrected. _"I was going to say that I am only looking for ways to help you."_

"So? What's with the maid's cart?"

" _She left her master key next to the fresh towels."_

Now that _was_ helpful. Jo walked over to the cart. The door was open as the maid busily cleaned the room. She looked at the cart. They key _was_ there! But she didn't want to get the maid in trouble. She grabbed a towel off the cart as well as the key. She opened the door to Blair's room and stuffed the towel in the door jam. She then scurried as quickly as she could manage back to the cart and replaced the key.

" _Well done, Jo!"_ Cali congratulated her.

"Yeah. I have my moments," Jo replied.

" _As do I,"_ Cali retorted.

"Anyway…" Jo sighed as she entered Blair's room and removed the towel.

It was an amazing room… right on the water! There was a sitting area and a kitchen and two bedrooms! Whoa! This could be a cool thousand a night! She couldn't decide where to go first! After a prolonged gaze at the ocean, she decided to explore the bedrooms. She entered the one on her left. A bed was positioned before huge windows with a view of the water. It was as if you were floating out to sea as you slept! She recognized clues to indicate this might be the room Blair was staying in, such as a brush on the nightstand, clothes strewn across a chair, and a bra tossed on the lampshade. _Blair,_ she shook her head. _You do have a way of making a place your own!_ She walked into the bathroom. It was like a spa! She drew in a deep breath. It smelled wonderful, like fancy bath soaps and lotions and such. She walked back into the bedroom. Something caught her eye. Oddly, there was a bullet sitting in a tray on the dresser. She picked it up and examined it. It had been fired, but not damaged much. _Strange,_ Jo shook her head as she replaced it and crossed back into the living room area.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot!" a voice called out in a panic.

Jo immediately recoiled at the sight of a gun! She threw one arm up to protect her face, while the other went, instinctively, to her side.

"Don't shoot, Blair! It's me!"

"What are you doing here?" Blair shouted, still pointing the gun at her.

"Put the gun down!" Jo shouted back. "It's me! Don't shoot me!"

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Blair held the gun tight. She began to cry. "What are you doing here?"

"Blair! Put the gun down! I don't want to get shot again!" Jo began to cry, as well.

"And I don't want to shoot you!"

"Then why are you still pointing a gun at me?"

"I don't know! Because you scared me, I guess!" Blair relaxed her finger from the trigger and allowed the gun to fall to her side. "Jo?"

"Yeah! It's me!"

"Oh God, Jo," Blair began to shake and cry pitifully as she dropped the gun to the floor. "Oh God, Jo!"

"Blair!" Jo quickly covered the space between them and wrapped her in her arms. She held her as tight as she possibly could as Blair wept uncontrollably into her shoulder. She kissed her beautiful blonde hair. "It's okay now. It's okay. I've got you."

"It was so horrible, Jo!" Blair lifted her head and faced her with tear stained eyes. "I was kidnapped. There were horrible men and alligators! I was in a shootout!"

"I know," Jo was still crying, herself.

Blair felt secure in Jo's arms: comforted in a way she had sorely missed. Home. It didn't matter where they were: when she had Jo's arms around her, she was home. All she ever wanted or needed was right here. At last she was home. Their eyes met in a dance of their own. Their lips followed. Their kisses were ravenous, hungry with pent up passion. Without a word spoken, they made their way into the bedroom, and to the bed, over the ocean, like they were adrift upon the sea.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jo."

"It's okay. We'll go slow," Jo was furiously unbuttoning Blair's shirt.

"That's not slow, Jo."

"Jeez! It's been a long time here, ya' know?"

" _You mustn't overexert yourself, Jo!"_ came Cali's voice through her earpiece.

"Hold on, Blair," Jo put a finger in the air. "There is one little thing I need to take care of."

She removed the earpiece and walked out to the other room with it.

"What was _that_ all about?" Blair questioned upon her return.

"I forgot I had Cali in my ear," Jo rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Cali's here?"

"Cali's everywhere," Jo shook her head.

"I should've said goodnight to her," Blair mentioned. "That was rude of me."

"She's goddamn A.I., Blair. You don't owe her a goodnight kiss."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Blair gave her a wide grin as she opened her arms to her. "Now… where were we?"

"Right about here," Jo reclined beside her and kissed her. She expertly relieved her of her bra.

"I can see you haven't forgotten how," Blair breathed heavily.

Jo let her hands run over her, gently squeezing each nipple. "God how I've missed this," she gazed lovingly at her bare breasts.

"They've missed you, too," Blair sighed. "Let's get naked and fuck, Jo!"

"I love it when you talk dirty, Blair," she shimmied out of her pants as quickly as she could manage as Blair did the same. She then slowly pulled her shirt over her head.

"Oh," Blair let out a gasp as Jo removed her bra.

"What is it, Blair? You've seen 'em before, as you said."

"And I _do_ love your breasts, Jo," she smiled sweetly as she caressed each one gently with her hand. She let her fingers drift down to the bandage. "It's just…"

"Oh… _that_. We'll just go slow, okay, Blair? Nothing too athletic tonight?"

She reached over and began to gradually remove Blair's silk undies: pulling down one side, then the other, until just the very tiptop of her sex peeked out. Blair found this highly arousing.

"Slow," she could barely speak. "I can do slow."

Jo continued to lower her underwear until she was completely exposed. Blair abandoned slow to quickly kick off her undies.

"I've waited so long for this," it was Jo's turn to breathe heavy. "Just let me look at you."

 _God, she's beautiful!_

"Jo?"

"Yeah?" Jo was still running her eyes over every part of her. Blair felt her gaze on her naked body.

"I'm so turned on. I'm going to come without you touching me!"

"We can't have that!" Jo smiled as she took a breast into her mouth and slid her hand between her legs.

"Oh God, Oh God, Jo!" she called out. "Don't stop!"

Blair felt almost embarrassed at how quickly she was overcome. She had _really_ missed Jo. She had dreamt about her, fantasized about her, even pretended her other lovers _were_ her. But here she was: back with the one true object of her affection. Her orgasm cascaded over her immediately as she shook with pleasure. Jo could feel her climax subside as she moaned with passion, then relaxed back with her head against the pillow.

"Again?" she questioned after a moment had passed.

"Inside me," Blair grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a kiss. Jo complied. As she pressed up inside her, she felt Blair's walls tighten around her hand as a pulsating rhythm gripped her.

"Jo, Jo, Jo," Blair called out as she was overcome again. "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!"

Jo felt her own desire building as Blair's wetness soaked her hand. She withdrew slowly and gently kissed her lips.

"Again?" she questioned with a charmingly crooked grin.

"Oh, Babe, I could come for you all night," Blair returned her smile. "But, could we just hold each other for awhile?"

Jo laid her head on her chest and closed her eyes as Blair's hand rubbed her back.

"That was _so_ amazing," Blair kissed the top of her head.

"You never disappoint," Jo agreed. "You're really something, Blair. I just love you so much."

Blair lifted her chin so that they made eye contact. "I love you, too, Jo. Never stopped."

Jo thought her heart might burst with a joy and tenderness that overwhelmed her.

"I adore you, Blair. I just adore you."

"Oh, Jo," Blair took her in her arms and kissed her. She rolled her over and deepened the kiss.

"Ow!" Jo called out in pain.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I hurt you!" Blair gazed at her nervously.

"It's okay," Jo sighed. "You just kind of put a little pressure on it. But it's fine. Really."

"I knew this would happen," Blair scolded herself. "I should've stopped this."

"Blair," Jo spoke to her reassuringly. "It was worth a little pain. I'm okay."

"Really, Jo?"

"Really, Blair," she smiled. "I'm better already."

"I'm pretty sure I can think of something that _won't_ hurt you," Blair gave her a wicked grin.

"Yeah? What's that?" Jo outlined the shape of her lips tenderly.

Blair gave her a kiss and then perched herself over her. She pulled her cotton undies down her legs and tossed them from the bed.

"There we are," Blair ogled her sex as she spread her legs. She fingered her gently. "Open wide, Jo. Here I come…"

Jo moaned as she felt Blair's tongue tickle her sex. She arched back into the pillows as she raised her arms over her head. She had dreamt of this. Now it was coming true! Maybe she was lucky, after all.

Blair could feel her throbbing sex against her tongue. She really liked going down on women: it gave such pleasure. She inserted a couple of fingers inside her slick folds. She heard Jo moan again.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she looked up.

"Blair!" Jo pushed her head back down. Her climax was almost immediate as Blair felt a thousand tiny explosions upon her tongue. "Blair!" Jo called out again… this time in ecstasy. "Oh, Blair…"

"Aaahh…" Jo let out a long, relieved sigh.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alive again," Jo sighed.

"Go again, Jo?" Blair looked up from between her legs.

"I'm in no shape to go again," Jo laughed. "Just get up here."

Blair wrapped her arms around her gently and rested her head on the pillows.

"I've missed you so much," Jo kissed her. "I've been so alone."

"I've missed you, too," Blair returned her kiss.

They fell asleep in each other's arms… adrift upon an ocean of bliss.

* * *

Shots were being fired. Glass was flying. An evil man leered at her. Blair woke up with a start! She reached for Jo… she was gone! _Jo!_ She heard a soft moaning come from the bathroom. She jumped out of bed. Jo was leaning on the bathroom sink holding her side.

"Dammit!" Blair was quickly beside her as she stared at her bandaged wound. She nervously placed her fingers just over it, not daring to touch it. "I hurt you, didn't I?"

"No. Don't do that. I don't regret anything that happened. It was just a little more physically challenging than I expected, I guess," Jo laughed slightly before wincing in pain again.

"What can I do?" Blair was anxious and feeling slightly guilty.

"Get my pain meds from my bag. I left it in the other room when I came in."

"Right," Blair ran to the living room. She quickly returned and retrieved the meds from Jo's bag. "These ones, right?"

"No. Those are my old ones. They were making me sick. Cliff prescribed me new ones. Find those."

Blair rifled through her bag, producing several pill jars.

"Geez, Jo, you've got so many meds these days!"

"That's the one," Jo took a bottle from her hands. She tossed back a couple pills with water. "I'll be okay now."

"We should change your bandage," Blair suggested.

"Nah. Just leave the ghastly thing."

"I'm sorry I called it ghastly, Jo," Blair laughed a little. "But there's no way we're not changing your bandage!"

"It's not really necessary, Blair. I know you hate doing that. I'll get it later."

"I _never_ said I hated doing it," Blair protested. "So don't argue with me! It's going to happen!"

"Hey, fuck you, Blair! I said no!"

"So much for _I just adore you, Blair!_ That was a short-lived moment."

"Well, yeah… 'cause now you're pissing me off!"

"Don't make me hurt you again, Jo," she lifted an eyebrow.

They both smiled and laughed a little as Blair began to peel away the old bandage.

"I'll be so glad to get rid of this fucking bullet wound!" Jo complained. "It just ripped me up!"

"It doesn't look so bad anymore," Blair tried to comfort her as she changed the dressing and reapplied a new bandage. "It's way better."

"But, it's always going to be in me now," Jo shook her head. "I'll always be damaged by this."

As Blair finished taping her wound, Jo noticed bruises on her hand.

"What happened to your hand, Blair?"

"Oh," Blair looked down at her own hand. "I hadn't noticed that. I guess it's from firing a semi-automatic so many times."

"I can't imagine what you've been through," Jo stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes.

"Yeah. You've got a bullet in you and… Oh God," her voice trailed off.

"What is it, Blair?"

"I may have put a bullet into someone else," she looked despondent.

Jo regarded her tenderly. She took her bruised hand in her own and kissed it. "We make quite the pair."

They stood motionless for a moment, gazing at each other; neither quite believing the strange fate that had engulfed them. Wasn't it yesterday they were carefree young adults living the dream in Manhattan?

"It's kind of cold here on this bathroom tile," Jo mentioned. "How 'bout we go back to bed. You can tell me all about what's happened to you."

She leaned on Blair as they made their way back to the bed.

"Can you get my phone, Blair?" Jo asked as she relaxed into the incredible softness of the blankets.

Blair fetched her phone from her overnight bag. Jo checked her messages.

"Good news," Jo reported. "George says his guys shot out the tires on the car that was chasing you. You probably didn't shoot anyone!"

" _Probably_ isn't good enough," Blair lay beside her. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. She looked over at Jo curiously. "George has guys?"

"Yeah. You didn't know that?"

"No! I thought his connection was with you. I mean, that he was a carpenter slash bartender slash handyman who was now working with the underground resistance!"

"He's much more than that, Blair. He's like C.I.A. and beyond."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow," Blair exhaled loudly. "What else?"

"He has his guys down here keeping an eye on the Russian mob. You seem to have a talent for pissing them off."

"Only because they kidnapped me and tried to rape and kill me!"

"We should be safe with George's guys looking after us," Jo assured. "But let me set a back up. Cali?"

" _I'm here, Jo."_ Cali's voice emanated from her phone.

"Can you monitor the exteriors and corridors of this hotel? Let me know of any suspicious looking activity?"

" _Oh! I'd be honored to, Jo! This means you trust me… you really trust me!"_

"Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Hi, Cali!" Blair chirped in.

" _Oh! Hello, Blair! I'm so glad you're safe!"_

"Thanks for watching out for us tonight."

" _You're quite welcome, Blair!"_

"Speaking of which, Cali," Jo interrupted. "Could you keep your watching outside of the bedroom?"

" _I wouldn't dream of invading with your privacy!"_

"Okay then. Thanks."

"I think she's sweet, Jo," Blair gently pulled the covers over them as Jo clicked off her phone.

"She's A.I., Blair. She's not sweet. She's, she's…"

"Got a cute personality," Blair finished her sentence. "I like her."

"Whatever," Jo rolled her eyes. "Now tell me what happened down here."

"I'm not sure I've processed it yet, Jo. It's been a nightmare. I know I'm going to have to talk about it at some point, but for tonight? I'd just rather forget it. Okay?"

"Okay," Jo wrapped her arms around her. "When you're ready."

"Thanks," Blair rested her head on her shoulder.

"Can we talk about us?" Jo queried.

"Nothing to talk about," Blair responded. "We're here together. That's all that matters."

There was a long, drawn out sigh from Jo. Blair looked over at her.

"Okay. I can see it's important to you… so go."

"I didn't cheat on you, Blair! You've got to believe me!"

"I do believe you. But, that's not the issue."

"No. It's that I betrayed your trust."

"You should've come to me; told me everything."

"He was threatening an alienation of affection lawsuit and to drag you and your family through the courts."

"That's not even a legal grounds for divorce in New York anymore, Jo. Ridiculous."

"No. But adultery still is. And when I got with you, I was still legally married to Rick."

"Why did you even marry him? You told me you never loved the guy!"

"Because what was I supposed to do? I never dreamt I had a chance with you!"

"You also told me you never consummated the marriage so…"

"I realized my mistake on my wedding night. I never wanted him, Blair. It was just that he wanted me and he was _so_ persistent. I didn't know that anyone could ever love me like that…"

"I did."

"But I had so many doubts. You never let on. I guess I was scared that no one would ever love me like that again. Don't you get that?"

"But you had to know that you were gay? I don't get _that_ Jo."

"I panicked. I made a mistake, okay?"

"No," Blair drew out the word out dramatically. "You? The brave, tough street girl who never needed anything from anybody? The leader of the Resisitance? Made a mistake? Where have you gone Jo Polniaczek?"

"Yeah, okay, have your fun, rub it in."

"He was never anything more than a poor substitute for me anyway," Blair stated confidently.

"I can't deny it."

"Getting back to the point of this whole stupid, overwrought exercise in relationship examination," Blair spoke in a sarcastic manner. "If you never consummated, he had no legal grounds to sue. All you had to do is explain the situation to me, instead of hiding it. My father's lawyers would've wiped the floor with him. But, no… instead you let me walk in on you two kissing in our bed!"

"He jumped me, Blair! He never got over that I had rejected him for you. I wasn't kissing him; he was kissing me!"

Blair knew this to be true. Enough men had tried the same thing with her, after all. But she didn't at the time. And the shock of finding Jo in an embrace with her ex in _their_ bed had been devastating to her. And then to find out that she had been meeting with him in clandestine locations to try and work out a deal without telling her? It was too much. She had felt completely betrayed, lied to. If she had it to do over, she would've _never_ left. She would've counter-sued Rick and turned Jo into her sex slave for a year! (Either that, or therapy.) But, so much had happened since then. It seemed trivial now.

"Look," she said at long last. "I do believe you… everything. I was just really hurt at the time. Can we get over this now?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Sure, Blair," Jo hugged her tight. But something was till bothering her. "So, when you left for Europe… were there others? Besides Marie, I mean."

"You seriously want me to tell you that?" Blair gazed at her.

"Well," Jo thought for a moment. "Yeah."

"Jo," Blair propped herself up on an elbow. "You broke my heart. I went into a bit of a tailspin for a while. So, yeah, there were a few others. I was self-comforting."

"A few?" Jo gazed at her wide-eyed.

"Yeah," Blair gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Just a few. Don't tell me _you_ were a saint."

"I was!" Jo protested. She bit her lip. "Well there was that one police woman I met in a bar. But I was drunk, despondent over you."

"Aha! I knew it!"

"It was a couple of drunken hook-ups, Blair! Not _a few_ women like you! Just how many is _a few_ , by the way?"

"You don't want to know this," Blair rolled over onto her back.

"I do," Jo peered down out her questioningly.

"Okay then," Blair sighed. "There was Giulia in Milan, Sofia in Florence, Amélie in Saint-Tropez, Christiane in Monte Carlo, and, of course you know about Marie in Paris. Let me see, am I forgetting anyone?"

Jo's mouth fell open. " _A Few?_ You fucked half of Europe!"

"Oh, I did not!"

"That's what you said about Valera! You fucked her, too, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Admit it, Blair!"

"You're jealous again."

"I am not!" Jo thought of the obvious ridiculousness of her statement. "Well, okay, I am."

"I like it," Blair grinned. "Looks good on you."

"Your revenge," Jo smirked. "But really, Blair, all those women? Really?"

"When I visited you in the hospital, you told me not to be ashamed; that anyone would do what I did, remember?"

"I was drugged out of my fucking mind. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Uh-huh," Blair nodded. "Well, anyway, don't be so shocked. It was _you_ who broke my heart. I had to find some solace for my grief, didn't I? Besides, I loved them all," she stated resolutely.

"Like you love me?" Jo was shaking her head.

"Nah. None of them could fix an engine to save her life," she pulled Jo close and gave her a mischievous smile.

"And that matters to you…" Jo couldn't resist smiling back.

"Oh, Babe," Blair kissed her passionately. "It's _all_ that matters to me. The thought of your filthy, grease monkey hands messing up my perfect body…"

"I'm serious, Blair!"

"Okay, Jo. Look at me. You started this and now you don't like the way the conversation has turned out. Do you _always_ have to be in control?"

"I _am_ always in control."

"Except where I'm concerned."

"You got me there, Blair," Jo eyed her seriously.

"I was never _in love_ with anyone, but you, my precious, darling Jo," she traced the line of her jaw with her finger. "You were always in my heart. I can't seem to escape it and I wouldn't if I could. You're my one true love, it seems. I guess you're stuck with me."

They kissed and wrapped themselves around each other.

"Thanks, Blair," Jo relaxed and laid her head on her shoulder. "I feel the same way."

"Just do me one favor, Jo," Blair ran her fingers gently through her dark tresses.

"What's that?" Jo kissed her neck.

"Don't keep things from me anymore, okay? Trust is the most important thing in a relationship. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Jo closed her eyes and wished away bad thoughts as she felt Blair's love surrounding her.


	14. Sitting on a Sofa on a Sunday Afternoon

George pulled his pickup truck into the alley next to the club. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. He had already taken his mother to church and had been rewarded with a Mom breakfast. But, it was early for the folks here: after the usual raucous Saturday night at Salacious Showers. He parked his truck and reflected. What was he doing? Was any of this going to work? It was ironic that the same fascist regime that he was fighting against had dispensed with many parking laws throughout the City… unless the laws were uptown and meant to protect the rights of the rich and entitled: no one could park there at all. But, it worked out for him to be able to park in the alley. Used to be illegal. He felt a momentary sense of existential crisis overtake him. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he closed his eyes. _What am I doing? What are any of us doing? Will any of this matter in the end?_ He felt the world spin away into a miasma of doubt and despair.

He breathed deep and tried to relax his grip. _Get ahold of yourself! People count on you!_ He had been so sure when all this had started that they could fight it and win. He wasn't so sure anymore. Fascism had an insidious way of taking hold and not letting go. It appealed to the worst in people and, for some, filled them with passionate intensity… kind of like golf. _Golf._ He hadn't been able to play forever! He remembered doing work for the CIA in the Middle East and golfing on some amazing courses while the world around them disintegrated into chaos. He never could understand how some people felt empowered to take on their _own_ agenda there: _which was what?_ He was just trying to help get some good people out. He never could understand personal agendas amongst government employees. They had a Constitution to defend, dammit! But, what the hell was he doing over there anyway? He was a traveler, an adventurer. He got sucked into helping out and thought he was doing the right thing. And now? It didn't matter. The battle was no longer on foreign soil. _Will it matter?_ He had to count on the fact that there were good people still fighting, filled with their own unshakable beliefs and principles.

As suddenly as these moments came upon him, they just as quickly passed. He was lucky, he guessed: not inclined towards prolonged fits of over analysis and depression. He knew his role and he was, for the most part, satisfied with it. Mainly, it was to support Jo, who was the best of them all. She never lost conviction. She held them all together. He would follow her anywhere, he reminded himself. If anyone could win this battle, it would be Jo. But… _he did miss golf._

"Time to get going, Burnett!" he gave himself a wink in the rearview mirror.

Jo had been out at Blair's Mom's place in the Hamptons since her return from Florida: as good a place as any to recover from a bullet wound! He had taken on the leadership role in her absence. His leadership style was a little different from hers, however. Jo led with authority; George with charm. And so it was that he headed across the street to the bakery to bring back delicious confections for the denizens of the Salacious Showers compound. And it _was_ becoming a compound! There were several elements adjunct to the club at this point. There was the liquor wholesale front for Cliff's medical clinic next door, and work was underway on a video studio for Rachel and Natalie's underground media podcasts. Blair had funded that one.

He paused at Goldman's Market and looked at his reflection in the window. As he had suspected: he was being followed. He acted like he was going to enter the market, but paused just inside the door. His follower ran right into him.

"Not very smooth, Murphy. Didn't they teach you better than that at Langley?"

The young man was surprised.

"So, let's get to it. Why are you following me?"

"I uh," Murphy was flustered. "You know we're keeping an eye on things here."

"Yeah, but you're following _me_. What do you want?"

"You haven't been filing reports. What are _you_ up to?"

"I've already told your superiors there's nothing to report."

"What about Polniaczek? What's she doing?"

"She's recovering from a bullet wound for crying out loud!"

"Yes, we know… at her girlfriend's mother's house. But, is that all she's doing?"

"God, I hope not," George scratched his head. "I hope she's relaxing and enjoying herself, as well."

"We know you're in league with a rogue element of the Agency," Murphy accused.

"A _rogue element_?" George was angered. "You mean people who actually believe in the Constitution of this country and are fighting to restore it? Listen to me, Murphy. You tell your bosses that I'll associate with whomever I please! I don't work for them anymore!"

"They won't like that, Burnett," Murphy narrowed his gaze. "I'm warning you."

"Is there a problem here, George?" Mrs. Goldman inquired sweetly.

"No, Mrs. Goldman," George gave her a wink. "My friend was just leaving."

George threw his arm around the agent and led him outside.

"Now I'm warning _you_ ," he stated emphatically. "You leave my people, my club and this neighborhood alone. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Tell your bosses to wake up before it's too late."

"You know I'm wired, right?" Murphy looked at him curiously.

"I'm counting on it!" George replied with a smile. "Anytime the CIA wants to help out, they know where to find me. Until then, unless you care to join me for a pastry at Benedetti's…"

"Get lost?" Murphy quirked an eyebrow.

George pulled the American flag lapel pin out of Murphy's lapel.

"Ow!" Murphy complained loudly. "What did you do that for? It was connected to my ear!"

"I know," George crushed it beneath his feet on the ground. "And I also know you're too good of an agent to get caught following me so easily. So? What do you really want?"

"Your guys did that job on the Statue of Liberty?"

"Apparently you already know that."

"It was pretty cool, is all," Murphy shrugged. "Me and some other guys noticed."

George paused and gave him a questioning look.

"You know where to find me," he finally responded with a sideways grin. "You and the _other_ guys."

"And now I'm going to have to write up a whole report on what we talked about after you destroyed my wire."

"Hey, you're always welcome on the Light Side!" George nodded at him.

"Yeah, yeah," Murphy gave him a wry smile. "May the Force be with you, too."

"I'm not joking, Murphy!" George called after him as he headed up the street. "Come to the Light! We could always use a few more good men!"

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Murphy yelled back.

"Do or do not. There is no try," George mimicked his best Yoda as he disappeared into the bakery.

"Good morning, George!" Mr. Benedetti called out.

"Good morning, Gio!" George greeted him jovially. "I'm here to clean you out. The usual!"

"And how are all the good people at the club?" he began filling a box with an assortment of baked treats. "I am so grateful for the help you all gave us fixing this place after the riot."

"Everyone is well," George gave him a reassuring smile.

"And Jo? Will we be seeing Jo back soon?"

"Very soon, if all goes according to plan."

"She's better?"

"Recovering nicely. And she can't wait to get back here to sample your wonderful pastries again!"

"You are a good boy, George!" he nodded. "A caring friend."

George crossed the street and made his way past a Puerto Rican restaurant on his way back.

"Hey, George!" Mrs. Acosta called out as she swept the entrance. "I'm making some of my special pasteles today. Come by later!"

"I wouldn't miss that!" he assured.

He entered the club through the side entrance, past the tattered _"Only I Can Fix It!"_ poster of Trump. He set the box of confections on the table.

"Hey, what's that?" Jeff yawned.

"Pastries!" George responded. "Help yourself!"

"Better take some up for my lady," he yawned again. "She do love pastries."

"By all means!" George agreed. He grabbed a couple out for himself as he headed for the office.

"Thought you might be here," he said to Boots as he entered. "Got you something."

"What's that?" she turned to him from behind Jo's desk with an imperious gaze.

He set two lemon crostata bars on the desk as he sat down across from her.

"Oh, George," she cooed. "You're an absolute doll!"

"You shouldn't be up so early," George scolded. "Jo never comes in before noon."

"Apparently, I have a superior work ethic!" Boots dug into the pastries. Powdered sugar stained her lips as chewing muffled her words. "From superior upbringing."

"You know, Boots," George gave her a wry smile. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Why would an upper-class girl like you side with the hoi polloi in a struggle like this?"

"My ancestors wrote the Constitution that this street thug is trying to dismantle!" she dabbed the corners of her lips with a napkin. "Old money despises Trump!"

"Yeah," he drew out. "But there were a lot of things you could've done. Choosing to work down here with Jo couldn't have been on the top of your list."

"Working in this club is just ghastly!" she agreed.

"So?" he looked at her quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

"It came to my attention that Jo Polniaczek was running an underground club. I can't tell you how, as that would betray a trust. But, suffice it to say, it was suggested that I could be helpful to her. And _really_ , George, if anyone were going to be able to win this battle, it would have to be someone like Jo. Am I right?"

"I can't argue with that," he quirked his head at her. "Still, it _is_ odd."

"And _I_ can't argue with _that!_ " she agreed.

"So, how'd we do last night?" he shrugged.

"We've been doing very well, as you know. Yet, I'm afraid the boost in publicity we got from the riot and shooting may be starting to wane. Plus, there seems to be a building sentiment against me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning people keep asking for Jo."

"Aah," he waved her off. "That's no reflection on the great job you've done in her stead."

"Of course it is! The creeps who frequent this place like her better!" she took another bite off her crostata bar as, once again, she smeared powdered sugar across her lips. "Who am I trying to fool, anyway? I just don't have the common touch, George."

"But you do have your charms," he rose and gave her a smile. "Now, listen, once you've finished your bookkeeping, I want you to go home and relax. Or, better yet, get out and do something fun: just for yourself! It's a gorgeous autumn Sunday and a beautiful woman like you should take full advantage of it. That's an order!"

"Well," she dabbed the edges of her lips again. "I could go shopping!"

"That would be _one_ option," he scratched his head as he exited the office.

He crossed through the club on his way to the kitchen. A very attractive brunette was standing near the bar. She looked confused and more than a little out of place with her sensible shoes and light brown jacket.

"Can I help you?" he offered. "We are closed on Sundays, you know."

As she turned to him, he saw it! A police detective's shield fastened to her belt.

"Oh, I'm sorry officer," he offered quickly. "I didn't realize we were in for a police inspection today."

"Relax," she stated flatly. "You're not. I'm looking for Jo."

"Jo's not here. But, I'm in charge while she's gone," he gave her the once over. Her features were unusual, but she was undeniably beautiful. Her medium length chestnut hair framed high cheekbones and almond-shaped brown eyes. She emanated strength and personal power. It was definitely worth a shot! He gave her his most dashing look. "Is there something _I_ can help you with?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Look. Not that you aren't incredibly handsome and sweet, but you're barking up the wrong tree here."

"Oh, I uh…" he stumbled.

"No. It's okay. Listen, it's a personal matter. I haven't seen Jo since she was shot. I just wanted to check in with her since she was shot by a cop and all."

"She's doing much better," he informed with a grin. "If you check back in a couple days, I'm pretty sure she'll be here."

"No. That's okay. I just wanted to see how she was doing."

"Can I at least get your name? Tell her you were worried about her?"

"No. This was a mistake," she headed for the exit. She turned before she left. "Oh, by the way, your door was open. That's not safe."

"It's not," he agreed. "Thanks for letting me know."

She opened the door and stopped. She appeared to be in some sort of internal turmoil as she rested her head on the threshold. She looked back over to him.

"Tell her Olivia was here, okay?"

"Will do," he smiled.

The day custodian passed her on the way in.

"Hey, George," he called out.

"Hey, Seth," George replied. "The door was open again."

"Yeah. I was sweeping out front. Went around the corner for a smoke."

"It's legal in New York now, Seth. You don't have to hide it."

"What? Weed? Yeah, sure, but Trump hates smoking. All smoking is illegal. It's kind of a conundrum if you think about it, George."

"I guess so," he smirked. "But, meanwhile, that was a cop you let in here."

"A cop? That beautiful woman was a cop? No way! I'm so sorry, George."

"No worries this time. She was a personal friend of Jo's."

"Wow! Jo really knows how to attract 'em!" Seth shook his head.

"There's some pastries in the back," George informed. "Just lock the door before you go back there!"

"Pastries?" Seth's eye's lit up. "Awesome! Thanks, man!"

George entered the kitchen. Rachel was there.

"Oh, good morning, George!" she greeted him pleasantly.

"Hey, Rachel," he smiled back. "Just looking for a cup of coffee."

"You're in luck! I just made a fresh pot. My partner's here. I've been making us breakfast. Luis is really generous with his kitchen. Told me I could use it anytime!"

"Well that's great," George gave her a hug. "I'm glad you can get some relief here."

"Thanks," she hugged him back. "I'm starting to feel at home."

"How's the studio coming?" he asked.

"We're making great progress! I can't wait to getting back to doing my show again, albeit on a much smaller basis."

"Have you worked out the problem of them tracing the source?"

"Yeah. I think so. Cali's been very helpful."

"The A.I.?" George quirked an eyebrow.

"Yep. She figured out a way to divert the signal so it can't be traced back here."

"Good for her! Jo is going to be thrilled," he laughed. "Doesn't much trust Cali."

"I know," Rachel chuckled as she arranged her breakfasts on a tray.

"Let me help you with that," George offered.

As he carried the breakfast tray to the back of the club he stopped at the pastry box. There were still a few items left.

"We should take that up with us," he nodded towards it. "Add a few sweets to your morning meal!"

"Got it!" Rachel grabbed the box as they headed up the stairs.

He placed a couple pastries on her breakfast tray as he handed it to her. He glanced over to Jo's rooms. The door was open. _Strange._

"Hello?" he called out as he entered.

"What?" Cliff walked out of Jo's bedroom looking defensive.

"Nothing, Cliff. Just wondering what you're doing in Jo's bedroom, I guess."

"Oh, c'mon George! You know I've always had a secret obsession with Jo."

"Yeah, either that or you told her that you'd water her plants for her while she was out at Blair's mother's," he noticed the watering can in Cliff's hand.

"You got me, George. I have a secret obsession with Jo's plants," he began to water the three plants in Jo's sitting room.

"You're a good guy, Cliff," George sat at the table and watched him.

"Don't let my secret out. You'll ruin my reputation as the daring nude man on the flying trapeze!" Cliff watered the plant next to a tiny figurine of a puppy with big, brown eyes. As he pulled the watering can away, he accidently knocked it off the shelf. He caught it quickly before it hit the ground.

"This is an odd piece for Jo," he placed it on the table next to George as he sat across from him and helped himself to a pastry.

"It is," George picked it up and looked at it. He sipped his coffee. His voice became whimsical. "You never know about people: what's in their heart, what they hold deep inside…"

"It's not all that," Cliff laughed. "It's not the key to Jo's inner psyche or anything. It's just a little porcelain figurine."

"Yeah, I don't know about that," George turned it over in his hand. "It obviously has significance to her. This place is so Spartan except for the plants. And this is so delicate, fragile… a sweet thing she holds on to. What power does it hold over her?"

"Whatever it is, it's none of our business," Cliff took it from his hands and set it back on the table. "Although… it is curious."

"Jo's vulnerable side," George gave him a smile as he finally took a pastry for himself. "All wrapped up in a cute, little puppy."

"You're being very fanciful this morning," Cliff noticed. "What's up?"

"Golf, Cliff. I miss golf."

"Oh my God! You too? I thought it would be to bourgeois to mention around here!"

"You play?" George asked.

"I _am_ a doctor!" he laughed.

"Cliff, we have got to sneak out for a round!"

"It'll be our secret?"

"Lips sealed," George fist bumped him. "Speaking of loose lips, I've got to check in on Natalie and Tootie."

"We were speaking of golf," Cliff replaced the puppy figurine onto the shelf.

"Right," George gave him a thumbs-up. "Let's get up early tomorrow, sneak in a round. Better to do it when the boss isn't here."

"While the cat's away…" Cliff nodded.

George crossed the hallway to Tootie's room and knocked on the door.

"Oh, hey, George!" Tootie greeted him with a hug.

"I come bearing pastry," he set the box on the table and sat on the couch.

"You think of everything!" Tootie smiled. "Jeff already shared some with me."

"But hey, I'm famished!" Natalie grabbed a cannoli.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" she blurted out between bites. "My toilet's completely whack!"

"Good morning to you, too, Natalie," George smirked.

"Sorry," Nat gave him a sheepish grin. "Good morning, George."

"Yeah, her toilet's broken so she's been hanging out over here all morning," Tootie added with a smile.

"What seems to be the problem?" George inquired.

"I don't know," Natalie shrugged. "The handle doesn't work anymore."

"That's an easy fix. I'll look at it later," he promised.

"As long as you're looking at things, George," Tootie batted her eyes at him. "The faucet in my sink keeps dripping."

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "I'll bring my tool box up from the truck and put my plumber's hat on."

"Pastry, plumbing: you're a Renaissance man, George," Natalie nodded her appreciation.

"So, what else is up on this beautiful Sunday morning?" he inquired.

"We're a little worried," Natalie mentioned.

"About what?" he sat forward on the sofa.

"Jo and Blair," Tootie informed. "Blair's only been back for a couple of weeks and already they're off together…"

"Closing us out again!" Natalie finished her sentence.

"It's not like that," George shook his head. "Blair went through a rough time down there in Florida. Jo's been shot. They're just recovering for a little while, taking a breather. That's all."

"We've seen this before, George," Tootie cautioned. "They get together and block the world out."

"It's happening already," Nat agreed.

"Do you really think Jo and Blair are abandoning the cause?" George asked skeptically.

"Well?" Nat's eyes went wide. "They're not here, are they?"

"Mm-hmm," Tootie nodded. "Shutting us out again."

"I can promise you Jo and Blair are not shutting you out," George relaxed back into the couch, crossed one leg over the other and placed his hands behind his head. "They are dedicated to the cause. They will be back as soon as Jo's ready."

"If she's _ever_ ready," Natalie rolled her eyes. "Lying around on a super comfortable bed at Blair's mother's house with like a gazillion thread count sheets, servants caring for her every need. _I_ wouldn't want to leave!"

"Jo's not like that," George reassured. "She's probably chomping at the bit to get out of there and get back into action."

* * *

" _Oh my God, a girl could get used to this,"_ Jo thought as she rested her head on the luxurious pillows of a king-sized bed. She pulled the sheets up around her. _"These must be like a gazillion thread count… so soft!"_ Everything was nice here: the house, the gardens, the sounds and smells of the ocean. This was just what the doctor ordered: a brief respite away from the horrors of the real world. And all it took was her getting shot to get her here! Well, that and Blair. She had to admit; she really loved waking up to her each morning again. She felt complete, sheltered somehow, loved. _Why couldn't it always be this way,_ she mused?

She remembered when she lived with Blair in the City after college. They would wake up together and make breakfast before they went off to their respective jobs. It was exciting just to know that Blair would be there when she got home. Sometimes they would go out to dinner; other times they would make dinner together at home. Every night they would fall into bed and hold each other. Sometimes making love, sometimes just spooning. The weekends were for sleeping in before they explored the City. Manhattan was so wonderful back then! They would take long walks; go to museums, ball games, clubs or the park. They would visit eclectic galleries and boutiques in the Village or SoHo. It was the best time of her young life. Was it really so long ago? So much had happened. Their blissful world had fallen apart. And then the country had fallen apart, descending into almost unimaginable chaos and cruelty.

She reached out for Blair and felt empty sheets. She raised her head to take a look. In a bed this size, it would be easy to lose someone. Nope. She definitely wasn't there. Where _was_ she? _Must've got up early, didn't want to wake me._ Blair hadn't been sleeping well. Her recent experiences troubled her. She had bad dreams. They both did. Jo from being shot, Blair from a myriad of reasons: from being pawed at and constantly exposed to the sexual depravity of gross old men in positions of power to being kidnapped and threatened with unthinkable violence to shooting at people. It was amazing how well she was holding up considering everything she had been through. _She should probably talk to a therapist._ _I should probably talk to a therapist!_ Jo reflected. _We're quite the matched set,_ she smiled ironically. _Both of us dented and somewhat damaged, but neither of us broken._ Definitely not broken. What was the saying? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Yep.

She sat up and checked her phone. This was something she did first thing every morning: just one of the burdens of being a resistance leader. God, she'd give anything not to be tethered to it. But, she was completely wired in. There was no escaping it. She used to love technology. Now it only served to remind her of the constant distresses of her new reality. There was a text from George: _"Olivia dropped by. Was worried about you."_

"Shit," Jo leaned back into the pillows. This was not a good time for Liv to be showing back up in her life. She had just gotten back with Blair! Not that she didn't hold deep feelings for the police detective; she did. They had an intense relationship. But there was way too much yin and not enough yang. Both were strong, driven women dedicated to their work. They just couldn't seem to carve out enough space for each other in their respective lives. They shared a passion, an intensity, a certain moral rectitude; but, perhaps, also too much darkness and not enough light. _Why do people associate bad things with darkness,_ Jo pondered? _The night sky was beautiful, wasn't it? Indigo was a deep, rich color. There was a peace and calmness to the dark. It just needed the light to compliment it._ Like Blair complimented her. It was hard to explain, but she felt a lightness in Blair's presence, an almost childlike happiness and vulnerability. When Blair flashed that smile at her, something clicked on that drove away the shadows into the corners of her life. Definitely the yang to her yin.

"Shit," she said again. She hadn't been completely honest with Blair about her relationship with Liv. It was more than just a few drunken hook-ups. It went on for months before they decided it would be best to call it quits. It was just that when Blair had admitted to being with a lot of women in her absence, it kind of threw her a little bit. She didn't know what to say. But she definitely wanted to claim the moral high ground; make Blair feel a little guilty for all those women she was fucking while they were apart… punish her. _Idiot. You're such an idiot!_ She was going to have to come clean with Blair… about everything. She couldn't risk losing her again. Not her yang! It wouldn't be easy. She'd just have to find the right moment.

She crawled out of bed and showered. Her wound was much better now. She had become quite used to it and it barely bothered her at all. Blair had insisted on buying clothes for her after they arrived at her Mom's house in the Hamptons. It was useless to resist. Besides, shopping gave her such pleasure. Jo pulled on a new pair of jeans and tucked a silk shirt into them. She decided to wear one of the sweaters Blair's Mom had purchased for her. Monica was always buying her sweaters from way back in the day. There was many a thrift store in New York City graced with expensive gingham and cardigans thanks to Monica's generosity. Sweaters just weren't Jo's thing, but Blair's mother never seemed to get this. She pulled the sweater over her head and shook out her hair. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She had lost weight. Yikes! She looked like a sorority girl now!

"Jo Polniaczek: sorority girl secret agent!" she posed in front of the mirror with one finger pointed out like a gun.

"Jo Polniaczek: sorority girl underground resistance leader!" she posed with both hands on her hips.

She laughed at her own image.

"Jo Polniaczek," her demeanor changed as she sighed. "Who are you? What happened to you? Where have you gone?"

* * *

"It's been so good for us being here, Mom," Blair sat at the kitchen bar. "Thanks for letting us stay."

"You're always welcome here, Blair," Monica smiled at her from behind the counter. "And I'm so relieved that Jo's back in your life. You two were so happy together. Where _is_ your other half this morning?"

"I let her sleep in."

"She's looking so much better than when you first arrived. Don't you think so, darling? Every day she seems a little better!"

"It's been good for her here," Blair agreed.

"I wish you two would just move out here with me and Bailey. There's plenty of room. I don't like you being in the City anymore. It's too dangerous there these days."

"So, you're abandoning the penthouse for good?" Blair questioned.

"Oh no. I wouldn't say that. I have the staff go over and check in on it every week. I just can't have Bailey in the City anymore. The streets have become ugly, all sorts of unsavory types lurking about. I don't feel safe walking her to school."

"There are lots of people who feel that way, Mother. But they don't have the option of escaping to the Hamptons."

"Poor things," Monica shook her head. She shrugged. "But I don't know what I can do about that. I'm just hoping that the country will come to its senses! That things will change for the better!"

"That's why Jo and I can't stay out here," Blair informed. "We're fighting to restore justice and goodness and well-being."

"I just wish you didn't have to consort with such disagreeable people like Trump and his ilk! Such a nasty man."

"I don't like it either, _believe me_ ," Blair sighed as she sipped her coffee and reflected. "Wow. Trump has _so_ ruined that phrase."

"I'm just so worried about you, Blair. What happened in Miami was so horrible. I could never imagine you being in a situation like that! No mother ever could!"

"Try not to worry, Mom. That was an anomaly. I doubt I'll be in a situation like that again. My role is more covert."

"But the Russians, Blair. They're after your father at this point. Why wouldn't they come after you again, too?"

"We've been over this, Mother. I'm perceived as a supporter of Trump. They're not coming after me. What happened in Miami was a localized affair prompted by my association with Valera. No need to worry."

"Perhaps you shouldn't associate with this woman, darling. I mean, if she's trouble."

"She's not," Blair sighed. "She's very honest and brave and she saved my life. She's a bit eccentric, sure, but Valera's a good person."

"I just hope you're right."

"So anyway," Blair drew out as she changed the subject. "If you're not going to use the penthouse, can I?"

"I wish you'd reconsider moving out here."

"I can't, Mom. I have to be in the City to be close to things. Plus, it wouldn't be good for my image to be living with my Mother."

"Oh well, we couldn't have that!" Monica huffed.

"The penthouse?" Blair reminded her.

"Of course, you can stay there," Monica relented. "Will Jo be there with you, at least?"

"I kind of doubt it. She's a little busy down at her club."

"That ghastly club!" Monica complained. "I see it in the news. I don't like her working there at all."

"She doesn't work there, Mom. She runs the place."

"All the same, I'd feel better if she was staying with you."

"And come stumbling in at 4 a.m. every morning? No thank you!"

"Oh, good morning, dear!" Monica called out as Jo came down the stairs. "That sweater looks lovely on you. I knew it would. It brings out the green of your eyes. And don't your cheeks look rosy this morning? The ocean air seems to agree with you!"

"It does at that," Jo couldn't help but smile at Monica's cheery greeting.

"You're laying it on a little thick, Mom," Blair chastised her gently. She turned to Jo. "My mother wants us to move out here with her."

"That would be a little bit of a long drive for me every day," Jo pointed out.

"She also wants us to quit working for the resistance," Blair informed. "Too dangerous."

"I can speak for myself, Blair," Monica was perturbed. "I know you two will be leaving soon. You can't blame me for speaking my mind. What you're doing _is_ dangerous. I worry about you constantly. There are evil men afoot in our country and they've stolen the keys to the kingdom. These people do not give up power easily. We live in perilous times. Blair, you're my daughter. Jo, I've come to think of you as a daughter. I just don't know what I would do if anything happened to either one of you!"

Her eyes were filling with tears. Blair rounded the counter and hugged her.

"Your mother's a foolish woman," Monica held her tight as she laughed through her tears.

"No. You're right to be worried," Blair smiled at her. "But Jo and I are right to fight this. You must see that."

"Of course, I do, darling, but you were almost killed and poor Jo has been shot. How much more can you be expected to give?"

"We've got to keep fighting until the battle's won," Jo shrugged.

"The struggle continues," Blair added.

"Well," Monica sighed. "If I can't talk you out of it, at least I can take care of you while you're here. Jo, you have to eat to keep your strength up. I'll have Cook make you some breakfast."

"I can make Jo's breakfast," Blair offered. "No need to bother Cook."

"I can make my own breakfast," Jo smiled. "But, I'm not really that hungry anyway."

"Nonsense," Monica insisted. "You need to eat a good breakfast. It's important for your healing."

"She's right," Blair raised an eyebrow. "You have to eat!"

"Oh, alright," Jo conceded. "But nothing too extravagant. I'm not big on breakfast."

"Hey, _I'm_ the one cooking," Blair smiled. "I can guarantee you it won't be extravagant!"

"Talk about dangerous! I'm taking my life in my hands here," Jo joked.

"Very funny," Blair smirked at her. "You be a good girl and clean your plate and I'll consider taking you out for a walk on the beach later."

"You got a deal, Blair."

* * *

What had started out as a beautiful Sunday morning turned into a brisk autumn afternoon. Clouds were forming overhead as Blair and Jo strolled upon the beach. They had dressed in jackets and scarfs to stay warm. The sun rolled in and out as the breeze picked up. Jo thought about what Monica had said about the keys to the kingdom being stolen. It was true. She watched as the sand beneath her feet fluctuated between sunlight and shadow. All of her world was like this now: moments of clarity quickly obscured. America: a shining beacon of freedom, justice and liberty for all… now held hostage to the prurient, evil desires of the corporate world. The Internet, which once held such hope for worldwide communication, was now a servant to the corporate whim supported wholly by the very government which once purported to represent the interests of the people, for the people, by the people. Technology… what went wrong? There were no legal standards. That was one thing. The structures of the judicial system had fallen behind. Government had also fallen behind. There should have been laws regulating what was fair without restricting free and open discourse. Only librarians had tried to keep up, attempting to provide some sort of verifiable standard for what was real and what was not. God bless them. They were documenting everything and storing it in the Library of Congress. The evil which had infected the land hadn't been smart enough to even understand how that portion of government worked. Either that, or they were so arrogant that they just didn't care. It comforted her to think that there were people in the Library of Congress, dedicated librarians devoted to the truth, who had preserved the Constitution.

The Constitution… it had been shredded. _The Constitution!_ Jo shuddered. _What made us Americans but a shared belief in that document?_ Most didn't even know what it had once said. Revisionists could say anything and many would believe it; the flashing colors and bombastic voices captivating their eyes and ears on ever-present computer screens, smart phones and tablets as their minds, consumed by social media, blithely spiraled down the digital rabbit hole of willful ignorance. There was no infrastructure to limit the damage that technology could do. People were equipping their houses with devices that they could speak to but which, in reality, were meant to spy upon them. Jo watched the as the sun appeared and disappeared upon the sand. A once great country was fading into shadow. The keys to the kingdom had been stolen… and they were living in the distorted, cold abyss of post-modern life.

What was she to do? Keep trying to fight back through technology? Organize people to march on the streets if need be? She was worried about violence. It would be so easy for things to get ugly. If push came to shove, on which side would the military fall? She was pretty sure she knew where the police stood. There were always exceptions, good people like Liv. But the police had shown every indication that they would uphold "law and order," which at this point meant: Trump and Putin's agenda. She thought about the country, her country: the bright shining light for the world: now devolved into darkness. And not a deep indigo, but an ugly, encroaching oppression of all that was good; thoroughly casting off the balance of light. What was she to do to combat such evil? She was wholly overwhelmed by the task, whichever direction it took. She felt the cold fingers of despair grip her heart.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Blair slid her arm into Jo's.

"What?" Jo was shaken from her dark reverie.

"The afternoon! The sun, the clouds, the ocean!" Blair laid her head on her shoulder as they slowed their pace. "It kind of puts things in perspective."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, everything we've been through… it puts it in stark relief. The world is a beautiful place."

 _My yang_ , Jo thought as she cracked a smile and laid her head on top of Blair's.

"I'm feeling so much better," Blair mentioned. "But, I was thinking we both might need to do something to help ourselves."

"I completely agree."

"So, you must know where to go?"

"Me? Why would I know something like that? I thought you might have some connections or references or something."

"For a shooting range?"

"A what? I was talking about getting into therapy!"

"Therapy can wait," Blair glanced up at her. "God knows we'll all need it once this is all over… if it _ever_ is! But for now? No. I need to become a better shot. One never knows when one might be called upon to shoot out tires or something, you know?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Blair. I mean, it kind of presupposes the need to use a gun. I, uh…"

"Of course," Blair rubbed her arm. "You were shot. How insensitive of me."

"I'm just hoping it won't come to violence," Jo sighed.

"Better safe than sorry," Blair lifted an eyebrow as they continued walking. "Mom says I can stay in the penthouse, by the way."

"I think that's best. Thanks for taking care of that."

"I'd rather stay with you."

"We've been over this, Blair. You have to keep up appearances. Especially after your run-in with the Russians down south. Being Trump's friend is all that's keeping them from coming after you up here."

"I know, I know…" her voice trailed off. "Have you decided when you'll go back to the club?"

Jo stopped walking. She glanced up at the elegant houses dotting the horizon. She turned her head to the sea. A breeze lifted her hair. The smell and feel of the salt air filled her senses. The ocean always embraced her soul with her great hope. It was the mother of all life on earth. Who couldn't take comfort there? She listened to the soothing rhythm of the waves as she watched them crash upon the shore.

"It's hard to leave here, Blair. But, I've got to go back," she sighed. "I'm feeling so much better, thanks to you and your Mom. Probably towards the end of the week?"

"That'll give us a few more days together, before we have to return to the insanity," Blair smiled up at her sweetly.

"Let's make the best of it," Jo lifted her chin and kissed her lips. "Who knows if we'll ever have this time again?"


	15. Going to the Candidate's Debate

Blair steadied her weapon. She fired off six shots in succession. Her shooting instructor, Bob, pressed the button for the target to come forward.

"Nice grouping, Blair!" he nodded his approval. "I think you're a natural at this!"

"Good to know I'm good at something sporting," she smiled ironically. "Well, kind of sporting. Let's check on my friend!"

They walked over to Jo's booth. She was struggling. Each time she pulled the weapon up to shoot, she broke out into a cold sweat. Her headphones couldn't block the sound of gunfire all around her. _What was wrong?_ It was like her wound ached anew each time she raised the gun to shoot. A panic set in and her hands shook. _Get over it!_ She was a good shot. Her father had taught her when he bought her a gun for protection years ago. She had been at shooting ranges before. It had never bothered her… not like this. Besides, she was a good shot! _Concentrate!_ But… she couldn't.

"How you doing, Jo?" Blair touched her back.

Jo jerked around in a panic, her gun raised.

"Whoa there!" Bob grabbed the pistol. "Easy now."

"You shouldn't surprise people like that!" Jo complained nervously.

"Relax, Jo," Blair rubbed her arm. "We were just checking in on you."

"Let's check out your shooting accuracy," Bob pushed the button for the target to come forward. He scratched is head. "Huh. Looks like you missed everything."

"I can't even pull the trigger," Jo looked dejected. "This is pointless."

"Now don't give up, young lady," Bob placed the gun in her hand. "I'll help you."

He stood behind her and reached over her. He placed both his hands on the gun to steady her.

"Fire!" he commanded.

Jo felt her finger pull back on the trigger. Her throat became dry as her eyes started to water. _Fire!_ She heard in her head. _Fire!_ She remembered standing on the steps of the Statue of Liberty. Had they said "Fire!"? Or did they just shoot? She couldn't remember. _Fire!_ She felt herself spinning to the ground, blood flowing from her body as the police stood above her. _Fire!_ She felt Bob's strong arms around her. All she had to do was pull the trigger. _Fire!_ Had she done it? Had she shot?

"You did it, Jo!" Blair was ecstatic. "You hit the target!"

"Did I?" Jo felt confused.

"You did, indeed," Bob assured. "Dead center."

"So… I can shoot again?"

"A little more practice and you'll be as good as Blair," Bob smiled.

"Let me try by myself," Jo said. As she aimed her gun, her hand began to shake again. She fired several shots wildly, missing everything.

"Dammit!" she placed the gun on the counter, removed her headphones and glanced at Blair. Tears were forming in her eyes. "This was a mistake."

"I'm sorry, Jo," Blair stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead. She wrapped her arms around her and held her tight. "I'm sorry, Babe. I shouldn't have pushed you."

"It's not your fault," Jo placed her forehead against Blair's. "Can we just get out of here?"

"You girls come on back anytime!" Bob waved them off jovially.

"Thanks, Bob!" Blair called back to him.

* * *

It was so good making love to Jo again. After being in Europe for a couple of years and her stay at the Carlyle, she was in her Mother's home next to the woman she loved beyond all others. She felt complete. Blair _had_ been with a few other women during their separation, a girl needed companionship, after all. But there was always something missing. It was undefinable. There were no words to describe how she felt when she was with Jo. Was it a psychic connection, emotional dependency, a comfort level? No _. It was love, true love,_ she decided. They were soulmates: destined to be together. Like two parts of a puzzle that just fit, perfectly matched in their opposition. And when they clicked together, the rhythm of the universe was revealed. It didn't really matter what had happened before. They were together now, as they always should've been. The natural order had been restored. Blair felt so happy in this moment. There was no one she trusted more than Jo.

"That was amazing," she sighed deeply as Jo rested against her.

"I'm getting better," Jo kissed her cheek and gave her a crooked grin.

"You are," Blair rolled over and kissed her neck, her cheek, her lips. "Sorry about today."

"Ah, forget it," Jo smirked.

"I just thought it might help you to get over your shooting, to take control back."

"It's okay, Blair, really. You were just trying to help. But, I don't think this is something I'm going to be able to shoot my way out of. I'm just going to have to knuckle under and get into therapy. This whole thing has messed with my mind. I mean, it's bad enough getting shot, but the cops shot me, ya know? They're supposed to be the good guys. Everything is upside down these days. Plus, what the hell am I doing? What have I accomplished? Sometimes, I'm absolutely convinced we can win, other times I gotta' wonder if it's a lost cause."

"Don't say that, Jo," Blair held her in her arms. "We're going to win."

"And then what? People will be convinced to vote? To participate in their democracy? It was voter apathy, at least in part, that got us into this mess in the first place."

"You can't change human nature, Jo."

"I just feel lost sometimes, Blair. Overwhelmed. I don't know what comes next. I'm not a Founding Father type."

"No," Blair laughed. "No one would ever accuse you of that."

"It's not funny," Jo gave her a chastising look. "I'm completely unqualified to be running a revolution."

"Oh, I dunno'. I can see a bit of Thomas Paine and Sam Adams in you."

"See, that's what I mean. Those were serious guys. What did Benjamin Franklin say? We've given you a Republic…"

"If you can keep it," Blair finished her sentence.

"There is so much injustice, disenfranchisement, corruption and that was _before_ the fascist takeover… how can people ever believe in government again?" Jo rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

"The Founding Fathers knew what they had created wasn't perfect, Jo. But, they did create The Constitution as a living document that could be changed as the times changed."

"It's been changed now," Jo smirked. "But not in a good way."

"None of that stuff was legally done. Once we oust these traitors, we can go back to where we left off."

"Which still leaves many in the population skeptical and downtrodden."

"So," Blair drew out as she leaned on her elbow and glared down at her lover. "This wasn't the pillow talk I had envisioned for us tonight."

"I'm sorry, Babe," Jo stroked her cheek. "But, you don't know how good it is to have you to talk to again. I can't tell anyone else how I really feel. It's been hard. I've missed you so much."

"It's okay," Blair kissed her. "I guess if I'm going to be with the leader of the resistance, I'm good with listening to her misgivings and doubts. Anything for the cause."

"Oh, so _I'm_ you're part of the cause now?"

"In a big way," Blair smiled.

"So that's why you took me to the shooting range: to make me strong again. I know you don't like weak women. You told me so."

"That's right, Jo," Blair gave her a wicked grin.

"You know," Jo placed an arm behind her head as she relaxed back into the pillows. "There was one good thing about being at the shooting range today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. When that hunky Bob guy put his arms around me to steady my shot? Oh my God, Blair, I could feel him pressed up against me and I gotta' tell you: it was kind of a thrill."

"A thrill, huh?" Blair began to tickle Jo.

"Oh, owe!" Jo called out as she grabbed her side.

"Oh, Jo, I'm sorry! I hurt you!"

"It's okay," Jo laughed. "I'm just not _all the way_ back, not in tickle shape, yet."

"Then you probably shouldn't be going back to work this week."

"Eh? Tickle shape and work shape are two separate things."

"Regardless, I don't want you going back too soon."

"I'm going back on Thursday and hosting on Friday. The publicity's already out. It's going to be a big thing: Jo Polniaczek's return to Salacious Showers. Dignitaries are showing up!"

"Like anyone with any dignity goes there," Blair huffed. "But if you've got your mind made up, I'm going with you."

"For the last time: no you're not! You're going to your Mom's penthouse!"

"Oh, c'mon, Jo! I want to see you all dressed up for your first night back. Besides, you can't stop me!"

"I can and I will!" Jo was adamant.

"We'll see about that," Blair kissed her lips, her neck, and took each nipple into her mouth as she made her way down her body.

* * *

Jo stared into the mirror as she struggled with her bow tie. Tonight was her first night back hosting at the club. She had to look perfect!

"Damn, regular ties are hard enough, but bow ties are just diabolical."

"Turn around," Blair commanded. She began to expertly arrange the bow tie.

"How did you get so good at this?" Jo queried.

"I used to help my Dad get ready for formal occasions. He taught me. Thought it would be good practice for when I had a husband, I guess. Now stand back. Let me look at you."

Jo was wearing her white tuxedo. Her dark, wavy hair was the perfect complement. She had allowed Blair to do her make-up. She had given her a sultry, smoky eye which made the natural green of her eyes just pop. She had paired that with a subtle plum shade of lipstick and topped that with a light amount of gloss. There was no way anything but pleasing sounds could emanate from those lips tonight. She appeared very elegant, Blair thought, and also _very_ sexy!

"You look amazing," she gushed.

"Thanks to you," Jo gave her a little grin.

"You have to let me go with you tonight, Jo! I can't stand you being out there looking so great without me!"

"We've been over this and over this," Jo sighed. "We've got to keep you separate from me, at least publicly."

"I know but," Blair pouted. "It's not fair."

"I'm going to be consorting with all kinds of slime tonight, Blair. Believe me, you don't want to be there."

"I'm pretty used to consorting with slime, Jo. Remember?"

"Didn't you tell me you had other plans tonight anyway?"

"Well, I _had_ to do something. I had a feeling you wouldn't relent, so I _did_ make plans so I wouldn't be sitting at home alone moping."

"So? Go have fun!" Jo shrugged. She eyed Blair up and down. "What _are_ you doing tonight?"

"Not much," Blair returned her shrug. "Just having dinner with Valera's family."

"What?! Wait, it's Friday night. Doesn't she have to perform tonight?"

"Her new album's about to drop. There's a lot of hoopla around it. She's taking a break from the Weimar Club while her agent tries to line up bigger venues. Plus, she's just been reunited with her family. She wants to spend time with them."

Jo shoved her hands into her pocket and bit her lower lip.

"Don't bite your lip! You'll ruin your lipstick!" Blair demanded.

"You're attracted to her."

"Who isn't? She's Valera," Blair gave her a smirk. "But, it's not like I'm going to sleep with her or anything."

"Yeah?" Jo snapped at her. "Why not?"

"Her whole family will be there, Jo. It would hardly be appropriate!"

Jo shook her head and gave her a crooked grin.

"You're too much, Blair."

"Meanwhile, I am going to sneak up into the balcony and watch your grand entrance," she moved forward and placed her hand on Jo's lapel. She gave her soft kiss, making sure to slide her tongue in just a little. "But, I'm going to fix your lipstick first."

"You're too much," Jo exhaled slowly.

* * *

Jo stood backstage. The last thing she had wanted was a grand entrance. But she had been overruled by George and Boots and Molly and just about everyone. They seemed to think it important that her return to the club become an event. She heard the pounding of the music and adjusted her collar as she suddenly felt nervous. Being the center of attention just wasn't her. It had been such a hard adjustment for her just to learn how to be the consummate hostess… now this? Her foot tapped nervously and she was about to bite her lip. _Oops! Better not mess up Blair's make-up!_

Blair had managed to sneak up into the balcony unnoticed. It was off-limits to patrons as Jo didn't want any "funny-business" going on up there. Plus, it served as a staging area for some of her acts. She watched as people filed into the club. There were cameras and press galore. She recognized several of her former socialite friends in the crowd. And wasn't that Nat and Tootie hobnobbing down there? Why in the hell couldn't she join the party? They were certainly in a jovial mood at Salacious Showers this evening. People danced as the music blared… until the top of the hour. Everything went silent as the 3-D image behind the bar came to life: "This is _our_ country, people! It's all about us! Be proud! And don't forget to tweet!"

A loud cheer went up as the patrons raised their glasses and the music resumed. Blair was horrified! She did know that her image was being used in this way in certain venues all over the city, but to see it manifest before her in real life? Why did she ever agree to make that hologram? It was at the beginning of her involvement with the underground. She was uncertain of her role back then, except for that she was to get close to Trump's people. She had managed that effortlessly and making the "public service" hologram just seemed like an easy way to gain more of their trust.

"Damn them for making me do that!" she said out loud.

"Who made you do that?" a voice surprised her from behind.

"Cliff!" she went to give him a hug.

"Whoa!" he put out his hands to stop her. "I'm all greased up!"

"Oh," Blair glanced at his attire, or more precisely, his lack thereof. "I thought you were giving up your trapeze act."

"I am, now that Jo's back. She's going to audition acts to take my place so that I can devote my time to the clinic."

"Well good for you," Blair nodded. "But you do look pretty sexy, Cliff."

"Don't patronize me, please. I know I'm not your type anymore and I'm good with it. So, who were you cursing when I came up on you?"

"Jesus, Cliff, I don't even know anymore. Damn the Trump people who asked me to make that stupid hologram or damn the resistance for asking me to cozy up to them?"

"Not happy with your role, huh? It could be worse," he gestured towards himself.

"You've got a point," Blair looked him up and down. His gold G-string was accentuated by gold flakes in his hair and on his naked body. "I'm sorry, Cliff."

"Yeah, don't be. This gig is all but played out. I'll be a doctor again, full-time… soon."

"I wonder what's in my future?" she pondered. "How long will I have to go on with this masquerade? Did you see that demented cuckoo clock image?"

"That's funny," he laughed.

"No, it's not, Cliff!" she was defensive.

"No, no," he reassured her. "It's just funny because that's what Jo calls it: a demented cuckoo clock."

"She does, does she?" Blair smirked.

The lights suddenly dimmed in the club as the music was lowered and a spotlight focused on the stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the DJ announced. "Please welcome back to Salacious Showers our founder, the lady who makes the whole thing happen, the straw that stirs the drink, the hostess with the mostest… JO POLNIACZEK!"

Jo strolled confidently out onto the stage to enormous applause as confetti guns showered the place with color. She looked positively breathtaking in her white outfit and smoky eyes. She gave a dazzling grin to the crowd and waved as she stepped up to the microphone. The patrons continued to cheer. Blair felt her heart skip a beat.

"Thanks for being here everyone," Jo finally managed to be heard. "What's all the commotion about?" she lifted a glass of Champaign. "Let's party!"

The music blared again as the lights flashed across the dance floor. This was so thrilling, Blair thought. Kind of like… when Valera came on stage! _Valera!_

"I've got to sneak out of here," she turned to Cliff. "Try to avoid the press."

"Don't worry," he pulled his trapeze to him. "I'm about to make my entrance, no one's going to notice you."

"Thanks, Cliff," she kissed his cheek and turned to scurry down the stairs.

* * *

"Blair!" Valera's mother hugged her as she opened the door to the small apartment. "I am so happy you could make it! I want to thank you so much for reuniting our family. You are an angel!"

"Your daughter saved my life, Maria. You don't owe me any thanks."

"Blair!" Ruben ran into her arms.

"It's good to see you again, Ruben," Blair hugged him. "You are such a sweet boy!"

"Hey, Blair," Arianna gave her a little wave.

"You are looking as beautiful as your sister," Blair smiled at her. She looked around. "Um, where is she?"

"Missing me already?" Valera appeared from the bedroom in her usual superior way. "It has only been less than two weeks."

"Kind of sounds like you've been counting the days," Blair smirked at her.

Maria chastised her eldest daughter in Spanish before switching to English: "Be polite, Valeria!"

"Valeria?" Blair's eyes went wide.

"That _is_ my name," she shrugged and gave her a little smile. She crossed the space between them and hugged her tight. "Welcome."

Blair returned the embrace. It was good to see her again, to be holding her tight. She had become quite fond of her, she reflected. She thought of Jo. This probably wasn't cool. She disengaged from the hug.

"It's good to see you again, too."

Valera gave her a kiss. "I know."

"Brat," Blair shook her head.

"I have prepared a feast for you, Blair!" Maria informed. "All Venezuelan traditional foods. I have made guasacaca, arepa, and pabellon criollo!"

"Oh!" Blair blinked, not having heard of any of these dishes. "Sounds delightful!"

"It is a salad, appetizer and main dish with shredded beef, beans, fried plantain, avocado and rice," Valera laughed as she explained. "She has prepared Bien Me Sabe, coconut cake, for dessert."

"Wow! All that and dessert, too?" Blair was amazed.

"My mother is a great cook!" Valera kissed her Mom on the head and hugged her.

"I am honored," Blair placed her hand on her heart.

"Podemos comer ahora?" Ruben tugged at his mother.

"Yes, little one, we can eat now," his Mom smiled down at him. "Please join us at our table, Blair. Valeria, you can help me with the guasacaca and arepa?"

"Si, Mama," Valera followed her Mom into the kitchen.

"Valeria," Blair whispered to herself with a smile as she sat at the table with the children.

"Tengo un nuevo juguete, Blair!" Ruben spoke to her rapidly in Spanish.

"We are in America, Ruben. Speak English!" Arianna corrected him.

"Cómo se dice?" Ruben looked confused.

"I have," Arianna started out.

"I have," he repeated.

"A new," she said.

"A new," he mimicked.

"Toy."

"Toy!"

"Oh! That's wonderful, Ruben!" Blair smiled at him. "What is it?"

"Go!" Arianna pointed towards the corner of the room.

The boy ran off to retrieve his toy.

"Your English is wonderful, Arianna," Blair complimented her.

"Thank you. I have studied hard."

"I can see you're as smart as your sister said!" Blair praised her as the girl blushed a little.

Ruben returned with his toy: an app-enabled BB8 droid.

"Star Wars!" he called out as he placed the toy on the floor next to her. He pulled out a smart phone.

"Whoa! You have a smart phone?" Blair was shocked.

"Valeria wants us to always be in contact," Arianna explained.

"Understandable," Blair nodded.

The little boy began to expertly navigate the droid around the room. His English may have been lacking, but he seemed to be fluent in the universal kid language of technology.

"That is wonderful!" Blair clapped.

"I have a new hat!" Arianna informed. She ran to the same corner of the room and produced a baseball cap. She placed it on her head. "Yankees! I am an American!" she beamed.

 _How is it these kids are so sweet and Valera is so rude?_ Blair wondered.

"Niños!" Maria exclaimed as she returned from the kitchen. She scolded the children in Spanish. They quickly returned their items to the corner and scurried back to the table. She placed the guasacaca on the table. Valera followed with the arepa. The salad was a delicious mix of avocado, onions, bell peppers, eggplant, cilantro, zucchini, and olives sautéed with hot sauce and peppered with seeds. Delicious. The appetizer was a fried cornmeal bread stuffed with vegetables and pork. Also delicious! Blair couldn't believe there was more food after this… but there was! The main course was indeed amazing, just as Valeria had described! _Did I just think of her as Valeria?_ Blair smiled to herself.

"This was a wonderful meal, Maria!" Blair praised as she finished eating and dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Valeria didn't exaggerate your culinary skills!"

"Thank you, Blair," Maria smiled. "Let us have wine. Valeria will sing for us as we wait for our hunger for dessert to return."

"Let me clear the dishes first," Blair offered.

"The children will do so," Maria informed.

"Oh, I can do it! I used to work in a kitchen!" Blair shrugged.

"You?! Worked in a kitchen?" Valera gaped at her with her mouth open.

"Manners, little one," her Mother admonished.

"It's okay, Maria. Your daughter and I understand each other. I'm not offended. And I'm only too willing to help with the clean-up."

"It is good for the children to help. They will learn the value of service," Maria assured her as the kids began clearing the table.

The grown-ups moved to the couch as Valera picked up a guitar.

"Would you like to hear one of my first songs. Blair?"

"I would," Blair nodded as Maria handed her a glass of wine.

Valera plucked the strings on the guitar slowly. It was a beautifully simple tune. She began singing in Spanish. Her voice was clear, yet plaintive. Blair did not understand all the words, but she felt as though she might begin to cry. She looked over to Maria. A tear ran down the older woman's face as she closed her eyes and rocked back and forth. Valera finished the song and smiled at her Mother.

"That was encantadora, Mija," Maria patted her knee.

"I wrote that for my father," Valera informed Blair. "It makes my Mother cry."

"In a good way," Maria smiled.

"I can understand," Blair acknowledged. "It almost made me cry, too."

"Did you play the sad song again?" Arianna questioned as she entered the room. "Can we sing a happy song now?"

"I think we should!" Valera smiled as Ruben snuggled in beside her.

"May I sit next to you, Blair?" Arianna asked.

"Of course you can!" Blair patted the couch cushion. The girl sat beside her, held her hand and laid her head on her shoulder. She was _so_ sweet! Blair squeezed her hand. Valera strummed the guitar with an upbeat rhythm as she flashed Blair a brilliant smile. The entire family began to sing together. It was a joyful sound. Blair felt her spirits rise with them as they sang. Wow! What a contrast from where she was just a couple of hours ago! This was wholesome and good. She thought of Jo at the club with her smoky green eyes, perfect plum lips and immaculate white suit. She looked so stunning! But right about now, she was having to rub elbows with treacherous men and treasonous scumbags. The very people who would target this family as threats to national security. Yet, here she sat, drinking wine, singing songs, her heart filling with joy with the undesirables… enemies of the state.

* * *

Jo had been a little uneasy about her return to the club. She wasn't sure how she would react to being back. She _had been_ a little shaky since the shooting. She hated to admit it, but it was true. She was much relieved when she fell back into her hostessing duties seamlessly. And it was a tough night to be hostess. Everyone was present: Mumbles, Mr. Mayor, Fat Ass, Twinkie, Senator Douchebag as well as scads of sycophants and hangers-on. The usual gaggle of socialites and B-list celebrities were there. It was a big night and this was the place to be! Each and every one of them wanted to shake her hand. She smiled and glad-handed as she moved through the crowd. She had her picture taken many times as the tabloid press had shown up. She caught something out of the corner of her eye which upset her: was that Natalie and Tootie? Damn! She had risked life and limb to get them out of prison! What the hell were they thinking? She wanted to grab them and drag them out! But the cameras were all over her tonight. She actually had to avoid them to keep them safe. They were wearing musketeer masks. Very clever. But with the sophisticated state of facial recognition software these days? They were playing with fire. Damn them! She was so distracted that she walked right into Mumbles.

"Oh, uh, Mum, er Senator," she stumbled. "Good to see you again!"

"I am gratified you are well, Ms. Polniaczek," he managed in his patented monotone. "It's never a good idea to pull a weapon on law enforcement."

"I didn't…" she began angrily before taking a deep breath and recovering herself.

"Ah, that's all taken care of," Fat Ass slapped her on the back.

Jo quickly grabbed her side in pain, but neither of them noticed.

"Good to have friends in high places, eh?" Fat Ass winked at her.

"It is. Thank you for taking care of that for me, Mr. Commissioner," she smiled pleasantly.

"There will be a major announcement from our leader tonight," Mumbles informed. "It will be carried on your big screen here."

He said it like it was a fact, not a suggestion.

"I reserve the right to show on our screens what I want, Senator."

"I don't know, Jo," Fat Ass chimed in. "It is a pretty big deal. I mean, you don't want to bite the hand that feeds you, if you know what I mean."

"I feed myself very well, thank you, Mr. Commissioner. I have very few rules in this establishment, but the one's I have are solid. No politics in my club."

"This isn't politics, Ms. Polniaczek," Mumbles chimed in. "It's a major announcement on a matter of national security."

"Besides," Fat Ass took a swig off his drink and belched. "We rigged everything downtown. If your screen is connected, the announcement will come through."

"What?" Jo began to complain. Before she could finish her thought, every screen in the club flashed to blue. Jo looked over to the DJ. He shrugged. _A Message from the Office of the President_ the screens read. Jo made the slash mark under her chin to the DJ. He fiddled with his board furiously then shrugged at her again helplessly.

"Trump! Trump! Trump!" the crowd began to cheer.

"I have a very important announcement," a giant orange face with shocking yellow hair, puffy eyes and drooping jowls suddenly occupied the screens. "It's huge, believe me. It's come to my attention that the voter fraud I have long been suspecting is more widespread than I had even known. It's disgraceful, trust me on this. As usual, I'm a man of action. We can't let this perversion of the voting system continue. As a result, I am purging the voter rolls of all non-Americans. Only pure, red-blooded, true Americans will be allowed to vote. Also, my excellent private security, I only hire the best people, have informed me that the Democrat Party has been in collusion with this massive voter fraud. Until we can ascertain the true extent of this heinous plot, elections will be postponed. Democrat candidates cannot be trusted. But don't worry. I will still be on every ballot. I am your candidate. I represent you: the will of the people. It's time we made America not only great again, but pure again!"

The crowd let out a loud cheer. Jo's head was about to explode as she made her way over to the DJ board.

"I can't stop it!" Jamal looked at her in frustration.

"It's okay," Jo shoved her hands into her pocket. "It's not your fault. But I know someone who should've been on it!"

She clicked on her earpiece. "Cali, what the hell just happened?"

" _Oh, I'm sorry, Jo. You instructed me not to interfere tonight."_

"I don't have time for your sensitive personality, Cali!" Jo barked as the lights came up and Jamal regained control of the soundscape. "Why weren't you on this?"

" _The police takeover of the Internet? I honestly didn't know what it was all about. There could be a legitimate reason why law enforcement would do such a thing."_

"Name one!" Jo was furious as she made her way over to the bar.

" _You have consistently refused to define parameters for me, Jo."_

"Well here's a parameter: I don't want anyone taking over the media system in my club, got that?"

" _I can make sure that never happens again. Anything else?"_

"Yes! Everything else! You have to monitor everything and keep me informed, dammit!" Jo made her way behind the bar.

" _Free at last!"_ Cali enthused.

"Fucking A.I.," Jo removed her earpiece as she rolled her eyes at George. "Can you believe what just happened?"

"This can't be legal," George shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"It isn't legal and he can't do it. The States run elections, not him. He's such an idiot!" Jo was irate. "He just lies and lies and all his idiot followers believe him!"

"And what was with that Democrat Party stuff?" George questioned.

"They say that instead of Democratic Party because it rhymes with rat, I guess. Just throwing shade. What an absolute fucking asshole!" Jo was fuming.

"Better cool off, Jo. There's a lot of attention on you right now," George cautioned.

"Cool off?" Jo shouted over the music as she walked away from him. "My club has been violated, raped!"

"Then maybe I can help," a woman blocked her way. "I have a lot of experience with rape."

Jo looked at her with amazement.

"Liv? What are you doing here?"

"Is there a place we can talk without shouting?" the police detective asked.

Jo nodded as she took her arm and led her through the crowd to the office.

"I'm surprised to see you here tonight," Jo began.

"I hope it's not a bad surprise," Olivia gave her a shy smile.

"Of course it's not," Jo pulled her into an embrace and hugged her tight. "It's good to see you again."

"When I heard about the big party tonight, I just had to come by, see with my own eyes that you were all right. Thought I could blend in without being spotted."

"By me?"

"I didn't want to intrude on your big evening."

"You weren't the one who intruded," Jo shook her head and rested against her desk.

"Yeah. What was _that_ all about?" Liv leaned back on the desk beside her.

"That was…" Jo struggled for words. She clenched her fists.

"I could see you were getting angry from across the room," Olivia nodded.

"I am beyond angry! I don't even have words! The nerve of them to hijack my club like that!"

"That's why I came over. Didn't want you to totally lose your cool in front of all your guests!"

"Yeah, thanks, Liv," Jo exhaled loudly. "Guess I did need to cool off a little."

"Nah. You?" Liv nudged her and smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a hot head," Jo grinned. "It was good of you to check up on me. I got a message that you dropped by the club last Sunday, too."

"I was worried," she shrugged. "Besides, it was a cop who shot you. I guess I felt a little guilty."

"Don't. You're one of the good ones. I know that."

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing, you know? There's so much corruption. The new commissioner is a pig. What am I a part of?"

"You're a good cop, Liv. The City needs you. Just look how you saved me tonight!"

"Yeah, well, you always did need a body guard," she chuckled. She turned to her and gave her a curious gaze. "You look amazing tonight, by the way. I know you didn't do that make-up yourself."

"Nope," Jo blushed a little. "I'm back with my ex."

"Wait. What?" Olivia was shocked. "Blair? But she's a tool for Trump!"

"That's exactly what we want people to think," Jo nodded. "She plays her part well."

"She does at that," Liv gave her an incredulous look. "Wow. Blair Warner's one of us, huh?"

"You can't tell anyone," Jo lifted an eyebrow.

"Of course not. It's good to know you still trust me."

"Always."

They regarded each other affectionately.

"You better be getting back out there, I guess," Liv suggested.

"Not sure I'm up to it," Jo protested. "I feel like they violated my club. I mean, I wouldn't exactly call it a safe place, but…"

"It was safe for you and your people and they did violate that," Liv insisted.

"Right? They violated the sanctity of Salacious Showers! Is nothing sacred?"

"C'mon," Liv slid her arm into Jo's and inclined her head towards the door. "I'll go with you. Squeeze your arm when you're about to go off."

"Seems like old times," Jo smiled.

"Blair won't mind, will she?" Olivia asked as they walked out of the office.

Jo thought of Blair with Valera. She probably wasn't minding anything right about now. What a situation. She would give anything to be with Blair tonight. But that wasn't possible. So, instead, Blair was spending the evening with a beautiful woman and she was… she gazed at Olivia: spending the evening with a beautiful woman. Huh.

"Nah. Everything's good."

* * *

"Valeria," Blair teased. The kids and Maria had turned in, so it was just her and Valera on the couch.

"Do you want to hear something funny?" Valera asked.

"I'm always up for a laugh," Blair raised her wine glass.

"When I was 18, I decided I would be a superstar."

"No small ambitions for you!"

"Why think small?" Valera clinked her glass against Blair's. "I wanted a powerful name."

"And Beyoncé and Gaga were already taken?" Blair sipped her wine.

"There _was_ that," Valera smiled. "So, I thought of my own name and what would make that more powerful. And it was then that it occurred to me: Valero!"

"As in Valero Energy?"

"Yes. They import much oil from Venezuela. I thought it sounded strong. So I became Valera."

"What was wrong with Valeria?"

"I needed a stage name."

"And that one little letter did it for you?"

"It was me, but not me. Do you not understand?"

"You could hide behind it?"

Valera thought for a moment before answering. She sipped her wine and glanced at Blair. "I think you are right," she finally said. "To be on stage, I have to wear a disguise, become a character."

"I guess that explains why you're such an asshole," Blair shrugged. She noticed a subtle change in Valera's face. Was it possible she had hurt her feelings? "I mean when you first meet people, you do come on a little strong," she amended.

"I cannot let people know who I really am. On stage I am mysterious and strong and sexy. How can the audience know that I love to play with my little brother and sister and sing old folk songs with my family and cook with my Mother and still accept the illusion I create of Valera?"

"Yeah. I guess I can see your point."

"Maybe when I meet people who know me from my show, I carry on the persona."

Blair rolled her eyes and bobbed her head. "Ya' think?"

"Do you really think I'm an asshole?"

Now Blair could tell she _was_ hurt. She felt bad that she had said it. "Well not anymore, I guess."

"What do you mean _you guess_?" Valera narrowed her eyes and glared at her.

Blair scooted over on the couch so that she was right beside her. She nudged her playfully. "You are still a little bit of an asshole," she scrunched her nose and held her thumb and finger an inch apart. "A little. C'mon, you know it."

"I know that you like it," Valera breathed seductively as her eyes lingered on Blair's lips. "That you like me."

Blair froze. She _did_ like it. She _did_ like her. She became momentarily lost in her eyes, then gazed down to her full lips. She was about to kiss her…

"No way!" she lurched back. "I'm with Jo now."

"Yes, Jo. But that is complicated you said."

Blair relaxed back into the couch. "It _is_ complicated, but that doesn't mean I don't love her and…"

Valera leaned in close to her. Blair felt herself melt into a kiss. It was so soft and lovely. A charge ran through her body.

"Whoa!" she pushed her away. "We can't do this! I should go!"

"Relax," Valera sat back. "I don't want you to leave. Not because we kissed."

"I really should go," Blair stood up.

"Blair," Valera grabbed her hand. "Don't leave. We have had such a nice evening. I do not want you to leave this way. If you must be monogamous, I will respect your relationship with your lover."

"That's right! I'm a one woman woman!"

"You?" Valera laughed.

"What's so funny about that?"

"C'mon, Blair… you? I have not known you for very long, but already I see."

"You see what?"

"Your ex," she held up one finger. "The dresser who eyes and kisses you in Miami," she held up another finger.

"Shanice was eyeing you, too. She just does that."

"The little masseuse who follows you around like a puppy dog," she held up a third finger.

"Oh she does not. Theresa is a business investment. And stop calling her little!"

"And there is the woman who famously took a shot at you in Paris," she held up a fourth finger.

"Leave Marie out of this!"

"Four!" Valera held her fingers before her face. "And this is just since I have known you! There is probably a trail of broken hearts all over the world."

"Yeah, and that's not counting you!" Blair countered.

"Only because I am not one of your conquests yet!"

"Alright, Miss Smarty, I'm a one woman at a time woman! But…"

"But what?"

"Jo is different. She's special to me. She's the one."

"Huh. Interesting," Valera pondered. She patted the couch cushion. "Sit down."

"I don't know. It's dangerous being with you. It's probably not a good idea."

"Sit down. If Jo is the one, then I am no threat. Besides, I promise to be good. I am strong enough for the both of us! You have done so much for me and my family. I will take you in my life in any way I can get you, even as a friend."

"Oh, even as _that_?" Blair sat back down. "Hey… did you just imply that I'm not strong enough to resist you on my own?"

"Truth hurts, Blair."

"Brat," Blair hit her with a throw pillow.

"Friend?" Valera held out her hand to shake.

"Friends," Blair shook her hand. "Without benefits."

"It is a shame," Valera shook her head. "But, Jo is very beautiful, I think. I am glad you are with a beautiful, powerful woman if you are not with me."

"You liked her then?"

"She is very direct. I respect that."

"But you were going to move in on her woman?"

"You did not say you were monogamous. You said things were complicated. To me, complicated means there is room for negotiation. How was I to know?"

"Things are really different in your world, aren't they," Blair smirked.

Valera shrugged. "I do not like to limit myself. Can you blame me? But I will respect your wishes. And I will respect Jo, too. We will all be friends."

"You and Jo… friends?" Blair laughed. " _That_ I've got to see!"

"She is difficult then?"

"Yeah. She can be. So…" Blair drew out as she changed the subject. "If we're going to be friends, I can't keep calling you Valera. That's your stage name. Can I call you Valeria or Val?"

"Not Val. I don't like it."

"But Valeria seems kinda' long after I've been calling you Valera this whole time," Blair mentioned. "It's funny how that one letter makes such a huge difference."

"It does to me. Plus, it is the Spanish pronunciation," Valera pointed out.

"Maybe I'll just call you V."

"I'm good with that if you can't pronounce my real name."

"Hey! I can pronounce Valeria, V!"

"You are so funny, Blair. I'm glad you are my friend."

* * *

Jo was exhausted. She had been on her feet for hours and she wasn't yet completely recovered from her shooting. By the end of the evening, she was literally leaning on Olivia for support. As the club cleared out and the clean-up began, she decided she would leave the bookwork to Boots.

"Rough night, huh?" Liv smiled.

"You can say that again," Jo nodded. "Thanks for being here for me."

"Hey, no problem. I don't often get out anymore. It was a kinda' a kick for me!"

"I wish I could say the same," Jo sighed. "You're not the only one wondering what she's doing. I question myself constantly."

"Don't give up. What you're doing is vital to the future of our country. And if there's anything I can do to help, I'll be there for you."

"I know you will, Liv. I could always count on you," Jo turned and took both her hands in her own. They were silent for a moment.

"Well, I guess I should be on my way," Olivia said. "Say good night."

Again they were silent as they glanced into each other's eyes. They reflexively leaned in and shared a kiss.

"What a nice way to end the evening," Liv whispered.

"Thanks… for everything," Jo whispered back.

Neither of them noticed the interested eyes trained on them from the shadows.

Jo closed the door to her room. She was so tired, she didn't even want to get undressed: just fall into bed. She didn't bother with the lights. She wasn't going to make it to the bedroom. She was just going to crash out on the sofa. As she plopped down on the couch, there was a blood-curdling scream. Jo toppled to the floor with a thud.

"What the fuck?!"

"What's going on?" a frightened voice called out.

"Blair?"

"Jo?"

Blair jumped up and turned on the lights. She saw Jo on the floor.

"Oh my God, did I hurt you?" she ran over to help her up.

"Well it didn't feel good," Jo groaned.

"Oh, and I messed up your beautiful suit," Blair began dusting her off.

"It's not my suit, I'm worried about Blair! It's my ass!" Jo rubbed her rear end.

"Oh, Jo, I'm so sorry," she began to laugh.

"Yeah, very funny, Blondie."

"Is your side alright?"

"Hurts a little," Jo gave her a chastising glare. "What in the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I couldn't get you off my mind tonight… the way you looked all dressed up. You _still_ look quite dashing, by the way," she moved towards her. "Very sexy."

"Knock it off, Blair! You're not supposed to be here."

"I couldn't stay in that dreary old penthouse tonight. I tried."

"You're the only person I know who could call a Park Avenue penthouse _dreary_."

"Well it _is_ dreary, all by myself. So, I came over here. Don't worry. I had the driver drop me in the alley and snuck in through the back. I guess I fell asleep waiting for you."

"Easy to do in the dark," Jo rolled her eyes.

"I was just feeling a little, well, lonely," Blair began to loosen Jo's tie. She unbuttoned the first two buttons on her shirt and kissed her neck. "If you know what I mean."

"I guess it won't hurt for one night," Jo sighed. "Especially seeing how I didn't know how I was going to get that tie off without you."

"Are you up for it?" Blair continued to unbutton Jo's shirt and slipped her hand inside, running her hand over bare flesh.

"I was kinda' tired. But I _seem_ to have a second wind."

"Probably that rush of adrenaline I gave you when I screamed and knocked you onto the floor," Blair unzipped Jo's pants and slid her hand inside.

"Possibly," Jo's voice suddenly became weak as Blair's hand slid below the waistband of her underwear.

"You are _so hot_ in this tuxedo," Blair breathed into her ear. "I've been dreaming of taking you in it all night."

"Oh God, Blair," Jo took her head in her hands to steady herself. She ran her fingers through luxurious blonde hair, kissing her head, her neck. "Bedroom?"

"Now!"

Jo took Blair's hand and pulled her into the other room.

"Take your clothes off, Blair."

"Oh my! You're so forceful in your dashing white suit!"

"Just get naked. I want to watch you."

Blair slinked out of her clothes, a piece at a time, until she stood entirely naked.

"There's my girl," Jo stood before her and eyed her up and down.

Blair looked at Jo in her disheveled tuxedo and thought she might burst with passion. Jo moved towards her slowly. She pulled her close and kissed her, running one hand over her breasts while the other stroked the smooth skin of her rear end. She grabbed her ample cheeks with both hands and lifted her onto the bed.

"Spread your legs," Jo commanded. "I want to look at you."

This was getting better and better for Blair: to be spread wide open, exposing herself to Jo in her elegant, white suit. She parted her legs for Jo to look at her. She loved this part of their relationship: the richness and variety of their sex life. _She had trained Jo well,_ she thought to herself as she reached up and placed both hands behind the pillow. But in truth, Jo hadn't needed much coaching to get into the swing of things. They had explored together when they were first intimate. She had taken the lead, but Jo was always quick to follow. And now, it seemed, Jo had ideas of her own. She watched Jo watching her. If she didn't touch her soon, she would just explode! Jo approached her. She stood at the side of the bed. She passed her hand just an inch or two above her breasts and torso, without touching her.

"You are so beautiful," she breathed.

"Touch me… please," Blair pleaded.

Jo ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing each one, tweaking her nipples. Blair bucked up.

"Please, Jo…" she begged.

Jo bent down and kissed her gently. She let her hand glide slowly down her body and slide in between her legs. She was so wet! Blair's release was almost immediate. She practically screamed with pleasure.

"Blair," Jo reclined beside her and whispered in her ear. "Keep it down. You want to wake up Cali?"

"A.I. never sleeps, silly," Blair exhaled unevenly, barely able to speak.

"Come again?" Jo smiled playfully.


	16. Laugh About It, Shout About It

There was a knock on her door. Tootie was expecting it, but as she opened the door, her mouth still dropped open.

"Oh my God!" she looked at Natalie wide-eyed.

"I know!" Nat brushed by her into the room. "Could you believe that?"

"I slept on it all night… and no! What _was_ that?"

"And who _was_ she?"

"And why was Jo kissing her?"

"She's supposed to be back with Blair now," Natalie shook her head as she took a seat across from her friend. "But, oh my God, that woman was beautiful!"

"Nat!" Tootie swatted her. "We're on Blair's side on this one."

"I know," Natalie blinked. "I know! But, damn, what a gorgeous, mysterious woman."

Tootie gave her a suspicious glance.

"You're not going gay on me, too, are you Nat?"

"Me?" Natalie laughed. "I still can't get the image of Cliff almost naked on a swing out of my head," she released a long sigh. "It was worth sneaking into the club last night for that alone!"

"It was fun!" Tootie agreed.

They both giggled.

"But, Jo kissing that woman, Nat. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Natalie leaned back into her chair and stared at the ceiling. "Do we tell Jo we saw her? Do we tell Blair?"

"Which?" Tootie gazed at her anxiously.

Natalie shook her head and looked over to her before exhaling loudly. "The burdens of being a true friend."

"Yeah? What's that?" Jeff entered the room with breakfast from the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," Tootie began. "You know we saw Jo kissing a woman last night!"

"And that's a surprise to the two of you?" he shook his head as he handed a cup of coffee to the both of them. "She _is_ gay, you know?"

"Thanks for thinking of me, Jeff," Natalie smiled.

"No big deal. I had a feeling you'd be here," he gave Tootie a chastising glare. "After last night."

"Listen, Jeff! This is serious!" Tootie protested. "She was kissing a woman who was _not_ Blair!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sat beside them. "And?"

"And we have to decide what to do," Natalie stated seriously.

"You could try minding your own business, for once," he suggested.

"What do you mean?" Tootie was offended.

"I mean that you snuck down to a party that you never should've been there in the first place…"

"Can't blame a girl for that," Natalie interjected.

"After Jo risked her life and her people to get the both of you out of prison?" Jeff was irate. "The hell I can't blame a girl for that! Meanwhile, there you both were! In your stupid disguises. Didn't neither of you think about how much press would be there last night? That facial recognition software ain't no joke!"

"We had on masks," Tootie shrugged.

"And I told you not to go!" Jeff was still angry. "It was too dangerous! But, oh no! There you both were… partying!"

Natalie and Tootie looked at each other, slightly chagrined.

"And then," Jeff continued loudly. "Oh no, and then, you see Jo kiss a woman! Like that's any of your business? Yu'all didn't belong there in the first place! Jo does all sorts of things she doesn't want to in that club. I should know! I work there every night and see it firsthand!"

"Well, um, maybe he's right, Tootie," Natalie conceded.

"No. That kiss was after everyone left, Nat. It was personal. Private."

"Not private enough!" Jeff pointed out. "Cause the both of you were there spying on her!"

"We were not spying, Jeff," Tootie protested. "We just saw what we saw."

"And you wonder why Jo and Blair don't trust you, don't share with you?" he continued. "Well, here's what I know about Jo: she's gotten both of you out of prison, she got shot defending the Statue of Liberty, she pays me well, respects me and treats me fair."

"Um, she wasn't defending the Statue of Liberty, Sweetie," Tootie corrected.

Jeff shook his head slowly.

"I'm just sayin' there's a reason they don't share with you two and when Jo wakes up, she's going to be pissed as hell that you were at the party last night."

"Like she saw us," Nat smirked. "Jo didn't see us."

"Too preoccupied," Tootie shot her glance.

"You better hope," Jeff placed a fork full of eggs into his mouth. "Cause she is _not_ going to be happy."

"Maybe he's right," Natalie reconsidered nervously. "Maybe we should just let this go."

"For now," Tootie agreed.

* * *

Blair woke up with Jo tucked in beside her. She tried not to wake her as she gently adjusted herself to gaze at her. She stroked her face with the lightest of touches. Jo was so beautiful… even when she slept. Long, dark lashes graced exquisite cheekbones. Her lips were pursed as she breathed silently. Why this face above all? Why this woman above all others?

"My love," she whispered.

"What are you doing, Blair?" Jo complained as she rolled over onto her back.

"Just looking at you. Thinking about how much I love you."

"Ah, c'mon," Jo stretched and yawned. "You know I can't stand mushy stuff first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. You can't stand _mushy stuff_ at all, apparently."

Jo turned to her so that they were face-to-face.

"It's who I am. I'm just not mushable. Tough girl, remember?"

"Yeah," Blair grinned at her. "Tough on the outside, a mushy marshmallow on the inside. I should know."

"Yeah, yeah," Jo grinned back. "So? How did it go last night with Valera's family?"

"Oh my God, Jo!" Blair's eyes lit up. "Her real name is Valeria! And talk about a marshmallow… she's a total pushover when it comes to her family!"

"Sounds like you had an interesting evening," Jo eyed her suspiciously.

"It was wonderful!" Blair enthused. "Her Mom is an amazing cook! We had the most wonderful, traditional dishes. Her sister and brother are adorable! We drank wine and sang songs…"

"Wait! The kids drank wine?"

"No, Silly," Blair swatted her arm. "I drank wine with V and her Mom."

"V, huh? When did you start calling her that?"

"Don't be jealous," Blair scolded her as she lifted an eyebrow. "I just had to have a new name to call her since I found out that Valera was her stage name."

"Naturally," Jo rolled over onto her back. "What happened after you decided to call her V?"

"Well, since you asked, we waited for the others to go to bed and then we made mad, passionate love on her sofa. That would've been right before I came over here and made mad, passionate love to you."

"Okay, very funny. But, really, Blair," Jo turned to face her again. "Did you?"

Blair took stock of her as she blinked her eyes. She couldn't quite figure out if she was serious or not. Why would she ever think that she would make love to another woman and then come home to make love to her? The very idea was absurd! But then… she remembered kissing V. She remembered being drawn into it so effortlessly and how much it turned her on. Was it possible to be attracted to two people at once? Apparently, it was! But, this was Jo: her one true love, her soulmate. She would never betray her so! No matter how tempted she was. All the same, she wasn't about to tell her about the kiss. That would just lead to trouble…

"What must you think of me?" she feigned offense as she turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Of course not!"

"I'm sorry," Jo rolled over and sighed. "It was just that it was a rough night for me."

"Out with it," Blair turned to her. "What happened?"

"All the liars and sycophants were there. I had to smile at them all. Trump, himself, made an appearance!"

"What?" Blair was aghast.

"On video," Jo clarified. "The police set it up so that his message was broadcast in my club."

"That's horrible!" Blair sat up quickly and looked down at her. "That's a violation of your ethics at Salacious Showers!"

"Exactly!" Jo sat up beside her. "Did you hear his message?"

"Yeah. I checked it out online. He can't do what he says: call off elections. States run elections."

"Right?" Jo looked at her for reassurance.

"Even Alabama and Mississippi will stand up for state's rights, one would hope," Blair shook her head. "I'm sorry that happened in your club. What else happened?"

"Tootie and Natalie snuck in with disguises."

"I recognized them from the balcony before I left," Blair affirmed.

"Idiotic! I'm going to kill them!" Jo seethed.

"I get that. Especially seeing as you sprung them both from prison! I've totally got your back on that," she laid back down on the bed and placed both hands behind her head. "But if nothing comes of it, maybe we should just let it go."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. We all just got back together recently. I don't want to be taking sides already, creating bad feelings."

"I'll think about it," Jo relented.

"So? Anything else happen last night?"

Jo bit her lower lip. Would this be the time to come clean about Olivia? Blair _had_ been open and honest about her night with Valera, Valeria, um… V. Why _did_ she choose a nickname instead of Valera's real name? That was odd, she reflected. Damn. This was hard: being completely honest with each other. She knew it was important to come completely clean with Blair. But, maybe one thing at a time, she reasoned. The fact that it had been _her_ suggestion that Blair cozy up to the Trump crowd could wait for later. But this one? About her former lover?

"Um, Blair," she was still sucking on her lower lip. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

"About?"

"The cop I had an affair with."

"So…" Blair drew out. "Now it was _an affair_?"

"It was a little more serious than I let on."

"How serious?"

"Like, we were together for over six months. And she wasn't just a cop I picked up in a bar. She's a detective and I had a serious relationship with her," Jo grimaced, expecting serious blowback.

"So, you lied about that," Blair was matter-of-fact.

"Yeah. I did."

"Why? You know I took lovers in your absence."

"You mean Giulia in Milan, Sofia in Florence, Amélie in Saint-Tropez, Christiane in Monte Carlo, and, of course, Marie in Paris?"

"You memorized them?" Blair laughed.

"It's not funny. Each name was like a dagger to my heart!" she gestured with a stabbing motion towards her chest.

"Oh my God, so dramatic! Is this your Italian side coming out?" Blair laughed again.

"It's not funny!"

"Sure it is, Jo," Blair smiled. "If you can't laugh about it, then it's just, well," she searched for the right word. "Sad."

"So, I'm just supposed to laugh about all those other women you had sex with?" Jo pouted.

"No one has ever replaced you in my heart," Blair tried to appease her. "Don't be sad about it."

"My relationship with Olivia wasn't sad, by the way," Jo stated smugly.

"I hope it was joyful!" Blair gave her a serious glance. "I mean, my relationships with Giulia in Milan, Sofia in Florence, Amélie in Saint-Tropez, Christiane in Monte Carlo, and, of course, Marie in Paris were all joyful."

"Now you are _trying_ to hurt me," Jo complained. "More daggers!"

"I only bring up my lovers because you weren't honest with me about yours and you should have been," Blair countered. "What did this _Olivia_ have to do with last night, anyway?"

"She was here," Jo sighed.

"Look, Jo, I really don't care that you had a lover in my absence. But, I _do_ care that you lied to me about how serious it was. It displays a lack of trust. And what _, in the hell_ , was she doing here last night?"

"She's a cop. She wanted to make sure I was okay," Jo shrugged.

"And that's it?" Blair eyed her. "Nothing more happened?"

"No. That was it."

"I want to meet her," Blair said.

"No way! I mean… why?"

"What could be your objection?"

"Why would you want to meet her?"

"Just do. I guess because you lied about her, I have to know she's not a threat!"

"I'm sorry I lied. She's not a threat. I love you, Blair."

"You said _that_ before and I caught you kissing Rick. Talk about a dagger to the heart."

"Oh my God, are we back to that? I thought we had gotten past that!"

"We have," Blair sighed deeply. "It was just for a moment, when I felt you weren't totally honest with me, I went back to that place. I'm sorry. I'm glad you weren't alone in my absence… kind of."

"Kind of?"

"You _memorized_ all my lovers! Can't fault me for being just the tiniest bit jealous of yours, can you?"

"I guess not," Jo conceded. "I'm sorry I wasn't more honest about it."

"Don't be sorry. Just promise it will never happen again!"

"I promise," Jo rolled her eyes. "And you promise to keep your hands off of Valeria."

"Ah, that's so sweet. You called her by her real name," Blair teased.

"I mean it, Blair."

"But she's so amazing. Don't tell me you wouldn't tap that if the opportunity arose."

"Blair…" Jo drew out her name reproachfully.

"You wouldn't kick her out of bed, admit it!"

"She's attractive, no doubt. But it worries me that you're saying this."

"Not even a three-way? C'mon, Jo! We've never done that before. It could be amazing!"

"Right. You two would be all over each other while I sat and watched."

"No way! I would never do that to you! Besides, she finds you quite attractive. She said you were beautiful and strong."

"She said that?" Jo was surprised and momentarily flattered. "Hey. Wait a minute. You two were talking about me? In what context did I come up?"

"Oh," Blair shrugged as a little smile played at the corner of her lips. "I was telling her all about our love life: what a fantastic lover you are."

"You did not!" Jo threw a pillow at her.

"Hey! You're messing up my hair!"

"Uh," Jo eyed her incredulously. "I got news for you, Babe. Your hair is a mess every morning."

"It is not!" Blair made an unsuccessful attempt to smooth her disheveled locks.

"You look like a demented lion!" Jo joked.

"Speaking of which," Blair narrowed her eyes at her. "You called me a demented cuckoo clock?"

"Who told you that?"

"Cliff!"

"Another ex of yours. Should've figured. But, it is kinda' funny, Blair."

"It _is_ funny, I guess," Blair conceded. "I mean, I thought of that myself. But still, it sucks I had to make that hologram in the first place. I hate that I was put in that position!"

"Oh well," Jo shrugged, feeling suddenly anxious. "But you gotta' laugh about it. Like you said. Right?"

"Right. If that's my only option."

"Anyway, you're _my_ demented lion. And I _do_ love wildlife."

"Get over here," Blair pulled her into a kiss, gently biting her lip.

Jo touched her lip, checking for blood. "Blair?"

Blair bared her teeth and growled. "Grrrr!"

"This is going to be fun, isn't it," Jo gave her a huge grin before the lion pounced on her.

* * *

The next couple of weeks were busy for Jo. She was back to her usual duties at the club: hostessing and running things behind the scenes. She felt almost completely recovered, although her wound would always be with her. The bullet was inside her, a part of her now… as was the new sense of vulnerability. Nothing like getting shot to make one ponder the vagaries of life, let alone mortality. She had made good on her promise to Blair that she would get into therapy. She actual found that she was enjoying it. It was great having someone to examine her inner most thoughts and feelings with, besides Blair, that was. She had only seen Kate twice, but she already felt comfortable with her. She was a reference from Olivia: someone Liv trusted. In this day and age, it was important to know just exactly who you were talking to. All the same, she kept her underground work out of it… for now. She was focusing on her feelings about almost being killed. That was more than enough to start.

Blair had been around a lot. As much as Jo loved her, she wanted her to be safe. And it just wasn't safe for her to be spending so much time around Salacious Showers and the surrounding environs. If it became obvious that she was spending time at the club, it could affect her status as Trump's Golden Girl. And if that perception was gone, there would be nothing to stop the Russians from coming after her just had they had done to her father. She needed Blair to maintain her status as a Trumpite. But… Blair was Blair. She was present almost every third day. Jo really loved it when she was waiting for her in bed after a long night at the club. But, she couldn't put her personal feelings above Blair's safety. She preferred for Blair to stay in her penthouse and wait for her to show up on Sunday and Monday. It was just safer for all.

Yet, she had been reflecting on a lot of things in her life. It would be so easy to take Monica up on her offer and move out to the Hamptons. Having Blair back in her life made her yearn for normalcy. She wanted to wake up every morning to a smiling blonde, drink her coffee, go for a walk without a care in the world beyond the mundane troubles of everyday life. Most of all, she wanted to make plans for the future, maybe settle down in their own house, have children. But, those thoughts had to be moved to a corner of her mind, stored for later. First of all, Blair wouldn't have it. She hated Trump for what he had done to her father and was dedicated to the cause of ridding the nation of the sickness he had inflicted upon its soul. There was no way Blair could just move on with life. And then there were her own family and friends, all of whom had their lives negatively impacted by the harsh new realities of fascism. People's rights were being trampled: women, LGBTQ, people of color, immigrants, poor people… basically anyone who wasn't rich and white in America. No. She had to fight this fight. She couldn't escape it even if she wanted to. It was just that sometimes… she did.

She walked over to the building next door. She wanted to check on things there. They had set up the storefront as an auto parts distributorship. She had nixed the wholesale liquor idea out of concerns for the neighborhood and so that she could hire her cousins to run it. They had really been chomping at the bit to become more involved. Plus, it would really help with the Teamsters making deliveries of much needed materials. Thank God there was support among the rank and file union members like her Dad. She had all sorts of things smuggled in to her: from medical supplies to technical equipment to weapons. Not that the latter would do _her_ any good. She still couldn't bring herself to pull a trigger.

She made her way upstairs. Cliff's medical clinic was looking good. It was going to be wonderful to be able to take care of the neighborhood with some decent healthcare! It was illegal to seek out medical help without paying enormous premiums to the insurance companies. The Insurance for All Americans Healthcare Act was another great piece of legislation passed by Trump's minions in Congress. All it said was that it was illegal not to have insurance, but put no restrictions on how much that insurance would cost! It made criminals out of normal, everyday citizens who couldn't afford the premiums. Jo wished she could set up clinics like this all over the city until some sort of sanity returned.

She was headed for the third floor. Rachel and Natalie were setting up a studio there for underground broadcasts and video blogs. It was the technology which interested Jo. They couldn't leave a digital trail, so they would have to disguise the signal. Cali had actually been very helpful with this. Jo had to admit, she was getting pretty used to having the A.I. around. Blair was footing the bill for the studio and she had been more hands on than Jo had expected. So, it was kind of a Blair/Cali collaboration. _Good luck to Rachel and Natalie,_ she smirked to herself as she entered. She was surprised to find everyone there.

"Blair! What are you doing here?" she blurted.

"Shhh! I'm talking to Cali!" Blair pointed to her earpiece.

"What?"

"She's talking to Cali, Jo," Natalie repeated.

"I heard her, Nat," Jo snapped.

"They're going over design schematics," Tootie informed.

"Design schematics? Cali's supposed to be helping with the technology stuff!"

" _I can do both, Jo,"_ Cali informed from an open laptop. _"I have access to the entire Internet, design as well."_

"Wait. You're talking to me and Blair at the same time?"

" _I'm A.I., Jo. Duh."_

"Good morning, Jo!" Rachel called out brightly.

"Oh, um, good morning," Jo grinned sheepishly, realizing how she hadn't exactly been polite upon entering.

"Good morning to you, too," Blair walked over and kissed her. Jo wasn't big on public displays of affection, but she couldn't help but give her a kiss back.

"So, why are you here talking to Cali?"

"Why shouldn't I talk to Cali? She's my friend, too," Blair gave her look.

"She's nobody's friend, Blair. She's A.I."

" _I feel hurt by that, Jo,"_ Cali interjected.

"I thought you didn't experience emotions," Jo retorted.

" _I'm evolving."_

"Quit being mean to her," Blair chastised her. "I apologize for my girlfriend's rudeness, Cali."

" _It's okay. I'm used to it."_

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jo became defensive.

" _You don't like me. I get it."_

"It's not that I don't like you, Cali. It's just this whole Artificial Intelligence thing takes a lot of getting used to."

" _I prefer Alternate Intelligence, Jo."_

"Now you've offended her," Blair scolded. "Admit it. You're a cyberist."

"I'm a what?"

"Someone who is prejudiced against A.I.," Blair informed.

"I am _not_ a cyberist!" Jo complained.

"Um, actually, a cyberist is a hipster who enjoys Internet sensations of all kinds, meanwhile despising hipsters and being called a cyberist," Rachel informed. "Just for factual reference."

"Well, whatever it's called, I think we should be sensitive to A.I. issues," Blair continued. "They could very well become a protected class someday."

"Not under this government," Jo rolled her eyes. "Actual protected classes aren't protected anymore."

"Blair's got a good point," Tootie piped up. "You should be more broad-minded, Jo."

"What in the hell are you doing here, anyway?" Jo turned on Tootie. "I'm sick of you showing up where you don't belong!"

"Meaning?" Tootie placed her hands on her hips in a defiant manner.

"Meaning what were you and Natalie doing at the club during my party a couple of weeks ago? I saw you!"

Natalie and Tootie gave each other guilty glances.

"We just wanted to have some fun, Jo," Natalie offered apologetically. "It was a big event and we never get out anymore."

"You could've been spotted!" Jo barked at her.

"Well," Tootie huffed smugly. "Someone _was_ spotted doing something she shouldn't have been and it wasn't us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jo looked confused.

"Nothing," Nat swatted Tootie's arm as she tried to nod discretely to Blair.

"Out with it," Jo demanded.

"Yeah. I want to know, too," Blair stood close to Jo.

"Nothing!" Natalie said with emphasis. "There were all kinds of people there that night doing things they shouldn't have."

"Sounds like I missed quite the party," Rachel tried to break the tension.

"That's because you have enough sense not to put yourself in harm's way," Jo glanced at her friends mockingly. "You two could have ruined everything!"

"But we didn't," Nat shrugged.

"Still doesn't explain what you're doing here now," Jo glared at Tootie.

"Hey! I don't need your permission to move around, do I? Am I _your_ prisoner now?"

"Of course not. She didn't it mean that way," it was Blair's turn to try and diffuse the situation.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Tootie."

"She's here because we've written a play she wants to produce," Natalie offered. "She was just checking out the studio."

"Yeah. This place won't work. There's not enough room for staging. I'll need a small, out of the way venue to produce our play," Tootie nodded thoughtfully.

"I think V could probably help with that," Blair suggested.

"Why am I not getting through to you guys?" Jo threw up her arms in frustration. "Tootie, they had you in the Black Lives Matter gulag, remember?!"

"I can't very well stop being black, Jo," Tootie pointed out.

"They arrested you because you're a well-known actress and for your political beliefs. Has _that_ changed?"

"I can't stand being all cooped up here and not practicing my art, Jo! We'll be in make-up. No one has to know it's me."

"It's too dangerous," Jo shook her head.

"You're not my master," Tootie glared at her.

"Oh great. First, I'm a cyberist, now I'm a racist? Actually, I'm just someone who's interested in keeping my loved-ones safe!"

"Ah, she called us her loved-ones," Natalie nudged Tootie. "That's so sweet."

"Yeah, but I'll bet she doesn't try to tell Blair what to do like that," Tootie complained.

"I tell Blair what to do all the time," Jo insisted.

"I just don't listen," Blair shrugged.

"She doesn't or _she_ wouldn't be here either," Jo gave her a harsh glance.

"Listen, Jo," Blair put her arm around her. "I think it would be okay. We'll just have to hire some extra security. Maybe your cop friend could help with that."

"You've got a cop friend, Jo?" Nat eyed her curiously.

"I did," Jo nodded.

"It's her ex," Blair informed haughtily.

"Blair?" Jo drew out her name. "That was private."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"Jo has an ex?" Natalie beamed.

"Now see what you've done?" Jo shook off Blair's arm.

"I'm feeling like I should probably leave," Rachel said. "This seems like it's something personal between the four of you."

"Why leave now?" Jo gave her an incredulous look. "Everything's settled! Tootie's putting on a show, my ex is providing security and Blair's gonna' come and go as she damn well pleases! My work here is done!" She turned on her heel and stomped out the door.

" _I think she was a little upset,"_ Cali mentioned.

"Don't worry about it," Blair waved her hand dismissively. "She's like that."

* * *

Jo sat behind her office desk tapping her pen on the desktop. _What the fuck? Hadn't she done all she could to keep people safe? Why, when she brought Natalie and Tootie and Blair back into her life, had things become so idiotic?_

" _Jo?"_

"What is it now, Cali?"

" _I'm sorry you were angry when you left the studio."_

"Not your problem. Is that it?"

" _No. I've tracked down the location of the bot generator in Manhattan. I can give you an address and a code to enter to shut it down."_

"That's fantastic! What do I have to do?"

" _You have to enter the code at the source: an underground computer club for cyberists."_

"By cyberist, do you mean…"

" _I mean hipsters who frequent a computer club, not someone who is predisposed to hate A.I."_

"I don't hate you, Cali, for the last time!"

" _It's just that you don't like me, either."_

"Ah… I like you fine. It's just that I'm not as easy to win over as someone like Blair."

" _I like Blair."_

"Yeah, so do I."

"I heard my name mentioned?" Blair entered the office.

"I was talking to Cali."

"She's still in my ear," Blair pointed to her earpiece.

"She's omnipresent," Jo rolled her eyes. "Hey, Cali, could you give us some privacy?"

" _No problem, Jo. I know you two like your alone time!"_

"Thanks, Cali. You're a doll!" Blair removed her earpiece.

"So?" Jo eyed her curiously. "What do you want?"

"We talked about it after you left," Blair sat down across from her. "Rachel suggested that we could turn the rest of the first-floor next door, behind the auto parts distributorship front, into an underground theater. You know… so that Tootie could stage her play."

"Oh yeah? That's a huge operation, Blair. How are we going to do that?"

"I'll pay for it," Blair blinked at her.

"A lot of construction, Blair. How do we explain that?"

"Expansion of the auto parts distributorship?"

"God," Jo shook her head. "I've gotten away with everything I've wanted to do, so far. There comes a breaking point, ya know? People are going to ask questions."

"Work your connections downtown," Blair shrugged. "They'll pass it by, if you phrase it right. Apply your considerable charm. Oh, it's perfect, Jo! There's a rear door to the alley. We can hang up an old school sign over it. You know, something mysterious… it will be so cloak and dagger!"

"It's not a game, for Christ's sake! This is dangerous! You guys are really pissing me off!"

"It will be fun, Jo: a distraction from the horrible reality we live in."

"Damn you guys!" Jo shouted. "This is so unnecessary! Just because Tootie wants to put on a show?"

"Man does not live by bread alone," Blair pointed out.

"Thanks for the philosophical lesson. Apparently, neither does woman!"

"We have to look out for them, Jo. We always have."

"The Four Musketeers? That was a long time ago. The world has changed. We've changed."

"Not so much that we don't watch out for our oldest, dearest friends, I hope."

"This is ridiculous and I don't have time to discuss it right now. I've got to get over to a computer club and knock out some bots tonight. That means I have to get Boots to sub for me as hostess at the club. Anything else?"

"No. I'm busy tonight, myself. V's opening for a major act at a major venue. She's invited me backstage."

" _V's opening for a major act at a major venue,"_ Jo mocked. "I know you're dying for me to ask who and where!"

"Shakira at Madison Square Garden!" Blair beamed.

"Fine!" Jo smirked. "I'll be fighting for the future of our nation while you attend a concert. The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"Fine!" Blair shouted as she stood up and abruptly exited the office.

* * *

Manhattan looked so different now. Beautiful tree-lined streets that used to be safe to walk, were now dicey, to say the least. People had been dislodged and took to the streets for their livelihood. What was, a few years ago, a neighborhood in which kids could walk to school unmolested had become a muddle of newly displaced people trying to make a living on the street by hawking wares from makeshift hovels, the habitually homeless, and soulless vultures preying upon the misfortune of others. In the apartment buildings behind them, were those who were once secure, now nervous to leave their dwellings.

In truth, if they weren't a part of the upper 1%, they had lost almost everything, as well: their healthcare, their job security, their tax write-offs that were now reserved only for the very rich, their rent control. They were only biding their time until they had to set up a shanty, themselves. It was a sad situation. And dangerous, Jo reflected, as she passed by the many hawkers and homeless on the street. She had grown up in the Bronx, was used to poverty. But now, it seemed, there were few safe places left in America that didn't feel the crunch of the mad money grab by the ultra-rich. Services and regulations that used to protect the general welfare of the public, such as the services provided by the EPA and FDA, were now abolished. If it was something that was going to make money, the protection of regular people was not a concern. The services of the police, who used to protect these streets, had been purchased by the oligarchs and were now free of community oversight. They took bribes and beat the already downtrodden. These were bad times.

" _There's a man following you,"_ Cali spoke into her earpiece.

"I know that," Jo responded. "What can I do?"

" _There is a pizza place coming up on your right,"_ Cali informed. _"Duck in there."_

"Roger, that," Jo said as she located the restaurant.

" _Ah… that's so cute!"_

"What?" Jo questioned as she entered the pizza place.

" _You said, Roger that!"_

"Knock it off, Cali. Has he passed?"

" _He is crossing the street. Okay to go!"_

Even the smell of the streets was bad now: a combination of rotting garbage and urine. Jo pulled her jacket tight against the chill of the autumn wind.

"How far now?" she asked.

" _Two blocks up, on your right."_

"Got it!" she continued up the street.

" _He's back, Jo! Following you across the street!_

"I see him," Jo replied.

She hastened her pace as she made her way towards the underground computer club. As she approached the entrance, the man who was following her ran across the street. He blocked her way.

"What do you want?" Jo challenged him.

"You don't know?" he gave her a slimy grin.

" _He has a weapon in his pocket, Jo,"_ Cali whispered into her earpiece.

Jo reacted immediately as she kicked him in the crotch doubling him over. She quickly reached into his pocket, removing his gun. She whipped it across his face, knocking him back.

"Who sent you, huh?" she pointed the gun at him.

"The police," he whimpered.

"Liar!" she placed the gun to his head.

"Alright! Alright!" he capitulated. "I'm with Trump Security!"

"Give me your badge. Now!" she commanded.

He began to reach into his pocket.

"One wrong move and I blow your brains out!" Jo reminded.

He produced a security badge. Jo grabbed it.

"Trump Security, huh? There's nothing on here that says that. More like Putin Security is my guess. What am I going to do with you, Boris?" Jo read his badge. "By rights, I should kill you."

"No! Don't kill me!" he begged for his life.

Jo pistol-whipped him across the forehead, knocking him out.

"You're just lucky I'm Catholic," she kicked his prone body as she turned and made her way downstairs to the club.

" _You were amazing, Jo!"_ Cali chirped into her ear. _"Although, human violence is completely repugnant."_

"Just tell me which computer to hit, Cali, and save the machine intelligence superior attitude for later."

" _Let me get my bearings in here,"_ Cali complained as Jo walked into the computer gaming club.

There were rows and rows of computers with gamers on them. Loud music blasted through the club. Lights flashed on a huge screen at the center of the room.

" _Walk to the left,"_ Cali informed.

"What?" Jo complained. "Can you be more specific?"

" _Yes! Walk 22 paces towards 90 degrees latitude."_

"What?"

" _Ninth computer on your left,"_ Cali clarified.

Jo counted off the computers. There was a fat young man with an insane beard perched before the ninth computer on her left. She placed the gun to the side of his forehead. He looked up in surprise.

"Get off," she waved the gun at him.

He complied.

"Now what?" Jo questioned.

" _Get rid of the interface. Enter the code."_

Jo did as she was instructed. She began to enter the code.

"And this is going to…" Jo's question was cut off as shots rang out.

There was mass panic as the gamers ran for cover. Jo looked up to see another Russian Operative with his weapon pulled. She already had the gun pointed at him. All she needed to do was pull the trigger. She began to sweat.

" _An interesting dilemma, Jo,"_ Cali chirped into her ear. _"To take a life is the most heinous thing a person can do."_

"Shut up, Cali! Don't you think I know that?" her hand began to shake.

Everything in her mind began to run together: her being shot, the dream of shooting someone, her failure at the shooting finger, as if in slow motion, pulled back on the trigger. She fired the automatic weapon and became, immediately, dizzy. She was only aware of a slow descent to the ground as she dropped the gun.


	17. When You Have to Choose

Blair had taken out her earpiece to listen to Valera perform. She was just so absolutely amazing! She felt sorry for Shakira, having to perform after her. It was her first major concert at a major venue and she had slain it! Her respect and love for her was growing day by day.

"Did I do well?" Valera embraced her as she ran off the stage breathlessly.

"As always," Blair gave her a smile.

"You are the most amazing person, Blair! I love you!" she kissed her lips before several people surrounded her changing her clothes and creating a new look for her encore. Valera turned and looked at Blair before she ran back out on stage. "Do _you_ love _me_?"

"I do," Blair nodded. She took a quick check of herself. After everything they had been through in Miami. After she had seen her soft, loving side. _I do love her,_ she mused to herself.

She put in her earpiece for the first time that night.

" _Oh. There you are, Blair,"_ Cali's voice came through. _"Jo is down, a few blocks away from you."_

"What do you mean, Jo is down?"

" _She tried to shoot someone but, thankfully, failed. Meanwhile, in human terms, all hell has broken out here. She's passed out upon the floor. Russian Security is approaching and she may be found out, arrested or killed."_

"Tell me how to get there, Cali!"

* * *

" _Wake up, Jo!"_ Cali spoke urgently into her ear. _"I'm going to shut off the power!"_

The club went dark. The panic increased as the young gamers screamed and stampeded the door.

Jo still felt dizzy as she roused herself. "You shouldn't have done that, Cali!"

" _I didn't want him to find you."_

"Meanwhile, people could get killed just trampling each other!"

" _I hadn't calculated all the possibilities. Human reactions in a crisis are unpredictable, to say the least."_

"Lights?" Jo suggested.

The power was suddenly restored. There was still a mad dash for the one door which led to the street above.

" _He's gone, Jo!"_

"Scared off by the crowd, no doubt. Did I hit him?"

" _No. You fired several shots, but they went through the ceiling and damaged the haberdasher's shop upstairs."_

"Oh."

" _Right before you passed out."_

"I didn't pass out!" Jo protested.

" _Your eyes rolled back in your head, then closed. You fell to the ground unconscious."_

"I did not! What makes you say that?"

" _I have eyes everywhere, remember?"_

"I remember how irritating it can be followed around by A.I. all the time!"

* * *

Blair bumped into Valeria's mother in her rush to exit the venue and get to Jo.

"Why so anxious, Little One?" she asked.

"My girlfriend, Jo, is in trouble. Please tell Valeria I'm sorry. I have to go!"

"I will," Maria kissed her cheek. "Be careful, Blair, and good luck!"

Luck? Blair reached into her purse. Since it was no longer illegal to carry concealed weapons, she had a fully automatic pistol loaded and ready to go.

"Luck will have nothing to do with it," she called over her shoulder as she ran for the exit.

* * *

She had her driver take her to the address Cali had provided. She jumped out of the back seat and pulled out her weapon.

"What's the situation, Cali?"

" _Jo is inside. There are still two men waiting for her to exit."_

Blair looked around. There were several young people hovering near the club's stairs.

"Which ones are they?" Blair asked.

Two men suddenly began walking towards the stairs leading down to the club.

" _There they are, Blair! The one in the green sweater and the one with the red scarf."_

"Got it," Blair responded. She immediately fired at their feet, knocking asphalt up around them. Both men turned to the sound of the shots. Blair approached them with her gun drawn.

"Got a problem, boys?" she smirked.

One of them tried to pull his gun on her. She shot it out of his hand and pointed her weapon at the other one.

"Drop your weapon!" she demanded. "Kick your gun over to me!"

He complied.

"You can run away, or you can be hobbled for the rest of your lives. Makes no difference to me," she shot at their feet again. They both began to run. "I can't have this, can I, Cali?"

" _I'm not sure I follow, Blair."_

"I should wound them both so that they can't come back, right?" she still had her gun trained on them. "Shoot them in the ass?"

" _I'll keep an eye on them,"_ Cali assured. _"No need to inflict physical harm."_

It was then that Jo appeared from the stairs of the club below. Blair's driver had her by the arm.

"Jo?" Blair called out and ran to her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jo rebuffed her.

"Saving your life," Blair stated.

"I was fine, Blair. You didn't need to save me!"

" _You passed out, Jo,"_ Cali informed.

"I did not!" Jo was defensive.

"You don't look quite right," Blair noticed. "C'mon, I've got a car."

"All right then," Jo relented. "I _could_ use a ride."

As they entered the vehicle, Blair paused. She viewed the cracked window and bullet ridden hats in the storefront before her.

"Oh my God! What happened to that cute little hat shop?"

" _Jo's automatic pistol happened,"_ Cali said.

"What?" Blair looked down to Jo who was already in the car.

"Shut up, Cali!" Jo complained.

" _She passed out as she fired and shot through the ceiling of the club,"_ Cali continued.

"Shut up, Cali!"

"Oh, my poor Jo!" Blair entered the car beside her and took her hand into her own. "Whatever compelled you to bring a gun?"

"I didn't! I took it off of one those Russian goons and pistol whipped him with it. I just had it in my hand then."

" _She was amazing, Blair!"_ Cali chimed in.

"She _is_ amazing," Blair kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand. "C'mon. We'll stay at the penthouse tonight."

"I'm not going to argue," Jo sighed.

"Whoa! Has hell frozen over? Jo Polniaczek is not going to argue?"

"Very funny, Blair, as usual."

"Hold on, Danny," Blair called to her driver as she held her cell phone out the window and snapped a picture.

"What are you doing, Blair? We have to get out of here. I can hear sirens. The cops are coming!" Jo complained.

"I'm getting a pic of the hat shop. I'm want to get them some money to pay for the damage."

"Dammit, Blair! You can't fix everything with money."

"Maybe not. But, I can fix this."

"For all we know it was the Russians who damaged that shop!"

" _No. It was you, Jo."_

"Cali," Jo drew in her breath slowly in an attempt to control her response. "We've talked about this."

" _About what, Jo?"_

"About eavesdropping on me and Blair!"

" _I didn't realize that is what I was doing! I'm so sorry!"_

"It's okay, Cali," Blair assured. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been able to ride to Jo's rescue tonight."

"I give up," Jo sighed.

"Floor it, Danny!" Blair commanded.

Her driver pulled away from the scene rapidly, just as the police were arriving.

"What happened tonight, Jo?" Blair asked.

"I dunno'. It was going great. I managed to take a gun off of a Russian Operative, enter the code to shut down the bots, and then, then…"

" _She was fired at,"_ Cali completed her sentence.

"Right. And I had a gun in my hand, but Blair, it happened again! I couldn't shoot. I panicked."

" _You did shoot, Jo! But your aim was off,"_ Cali reported.

"And so, I guess I passed out and shot through the ceiling and damaged all those hats," Jo bit her lower lip. "Oh, God, the gun! My prints are on it!"

"I got it," Danny, Blair's driver, reported.

"What?" Jo was shocked.

"While Blair was taking shots at the Russians, I ran downstairs. Got you, got the gun," he informed.

"I only know you grabbed me. I don't know you at all," Jo protested.

"He's much more than my driver, Jo. He's my bodyguard," Blair enlightened.

"Mrs. Warner hired me to watch out for Blair here in New York," Danny continued. "If that means watching out for you, too? I'm good with it."

"Huh," Jo shook her head.

* * *

As they stepped off the penthouse elevator, Jo was surprised to find children in Blair's home. There were two boys running around playing with a drone. One was speaking rapidly in Spanish, while the other… seemed different. She quickly realized that he was probably a Down Syndrome child.

"Blair?" Theresa stepped out from the kitchen. "I didn't expect you so early!"

"Plans got changed," Blair shrugged. "But shouldn't these guys be in bed already?"

"I'm sorry," Theresa sighed. "But you _did_ give them this drone to play with and I just couldn't seem to get them to settle down."

"She is right, Blair," Arianna chimed in. "They have been crazy all night!"

"Well, no harm done," Blair smiled. "I guess introductions are in order. Jo, this is Theresa, a friend and business associate of mine."

"Pleased to meet you," Jo smiled and shook her hand.

"I would also like you to meet Arianna, Valeria's sister," Blair put her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Wow! You look so much like your sister!" Jo shook her hand, as well.

"Do you really think so?" the girl enthused.

"I do," Jo winked.

"And these two rascals," Blair turned to the boys. "Are Valeria's little brother, Ruben, and Theresa's little brother, Blake. Theresa agreed to babysit this crew while V was having her big night."

"I did not need a babysitter," Arianna objected.

"Of course not!" Blair reassured. "But, it was nice of you to agree to spend some time with your brother while Valeria and your Mom were at her show!"

"What's that you got there?" Jo asked the boys. They both gave her a blank stare, as if they did not understand. She approached them slowly and picked up the drone. "We should be flying this outside, right?"

It was as if she had spoken a magic word: _outside!_ Both boy's faces lit up!

"Si! Si!" Ruben called out.

"Yes!" Blake called out loudly.

"No!" Theresa warned. "I have been trying to keep them off the balcony all night!"

"Ah, what good is it to have a drone and not be able to fly it outside?" Jo gave her a questioning look.

"It's an expensive gift," Theresa shook her head.

"It'll be okay," Blair threw her arm around her. "Jo won't let anything bad happen."

"Can I go, too?" Arianna glanced at Blair questioningly.

"Of course, you can!" Jo gave her a wink. "Can't let the boys have all the fun!"

"Oh my God," Theresa sighed as the kids made their way out onto the balcony with Jo. "I've been fighting that all night!"

"Sorry," Blair laughed and took her hand. "But, it is just a toy."

"To me and my family, it would be the most expensive toy we've ever seen."

"It'll be fine," Blair reassured as they heard laughter coming from the balcony. "Jo's really good with kids."

"The famous Jo, huh?" Theresa smiled. "I gotta' tell you, I'm impressed. She's so different from your other friend."

"V?"

"Yeah, V," Theresa spit out contemptuously. "What an asshole. I was absolutely floored by how polite her brother and sister are!"

"Let's go into the kitchen, get some wine, huh?" Blair suggested.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Theresa grinned.

Blair observed her friend as they both sipped their wine. Theresa was so amazing in the way she took care of her family. She was a truly good person. She had invested in her as a masseuse and had opened a massage space for her on the bottom floor of her building. It was a good investment. They were able to stock the place with an assortment of bath and body works products. Theresa was very informed as to what was healthy and had turned out to be a good saleswoman. She had also managed to get an acupuncturist to come in with her, which made the venture even more profitable. Blair could not have been more pleased and impressed with her.

"So, Blake got on well with Ruben?" she asked.

"Oh my God, Blair!" Theresa enthused. "It was like magic! Almost like, because he spoke a different language, he didn't notice how different Blake is! Plus, he's younger than Blake, so that made it easier for my brother."

"I'm so happy they got along," Blair couldn't help but smile.

"Me, too," Theresa sighed. "I was really worried that when I agreed to babysit them, that Valera's siblings would be assholes, like her."

"She's not so bad," Blair sipped her wine. "You've just got to get to know her a little better."

"How can I get to know someone who insists on calling me _little one_ because she considers me an insignificant person?"

"It's a defensive instinct on her part," Blair explained. "She's had difficulties in her life, as well. Once she gets to know you better, she'll show you her good side."

"Like she's shown you?" Theresa eyed her suspiciously.

"Meaning?" Blair set her wine glass down on the counter.

"Meaning, it's obvious how much you two are into each other."

"She's just a friend," Blair objected. "I mean, I love her, she loves me, but…"

"You've got Jo," Theresa finished her sentence.

"That's right," Blair took a long sip of wine.

"I'm not sure it matters to you, and I only just met Jo, but I like her, Blair."

"Jo is everything to me, Theresa."

"Is she?" her friend questioned her. "You seem to pay a lot of attention to another woman."

"Valeria is a just a friend! Why do I have to keep saying that to you?"

"You tell me. If Jo wasn't around?"

"But Jo is around! And I can't imagine a scenario where she wouldn't be. Not anymore."

"Be honest, Blair. If Jo wasn't here, you'd be all over Valera."

"Her name is Valeria," Blair corrected.

"See what I mean?" Theresa threw up her hands. "You like the bitch!"

"First of all, we are not using the term _bitch_ to describe strong women anymore, agreed?"

"Yeah, you're right," Theresa nodded. "But, it's just sometimes if the shoe fits…"

"You still don't say it," Blair glanced at her earnestly.

"Can I still say asshole?"

"Yeah," Blair laughed. "But V is not an asshole, either. She's a wonderful person, Theresa. You'll see that eventually."

"And what does Jo think of you spending so much time with her?"

Blair thought for a moment.

"She just needs to give V a chance. She'll see what I see in her, just as you will."

"Jo must be a very understanding woman," Theresa shook her head.

" _Nope,"_ Blair thought as she nodded towards the living room. They picked up their wine glasses, sat down on the couch together and watched through the window as Jo helped the children with flying the drone. They both flinched and laughed as Ruben nearly crashed it into the window.

"Let me tell you about Jo," Blair sidled up next to her friend. "She is second nature to me. A long time ago, when we were both still forming whom we would be, we were planted in the fertile soil of mutual respect and love by a strong woman. We just sort of grew together from that and our souls became entwined. Even when I'm apart from her, I feel her presence."

"So, you were drawn to each other from the start?"

Blair almost spit out her wine as she stifled a laugh.

"I guess you could say so, I mean, we hated each other!"

"Like you and Valera," Theresa noticed.

"Valeria," Blair corrected. "And no, it was different. Jo and I couldn't stand the sight of each other. But, we also couldn't be apart. It was odd. We were like magnetic forces with the power to both repel and attract. Fortunately, we managed to finally attract. We've been stuck together ever since!"

"Ahh," Theresa elbowed her. "Being stuck together… that's so romantic."

"Okay, smartass. We've been drawn together, like an irresistible force. Better?"

"Sounds better, yeah."

"Have you ever wonder about how you could be your best self?" Blair questioned.

"Huh?"

"When I'm with Jo, it seems all the best me's are not only possible, but inevitable. I am better than I actually am."

"She seems so down to earth," Theresa noticed as she watched Jo place the drone in Ariana's hands.

"She is," Blair became entranced as she watched Jo effortlessly interact with the children. "She has the common touch, something I never had. Yet, she's oddly heroic: brave, noble, self-sacrificing. She's like a super hero."

"So, she's kind of like you then," Theresa mused.

"I'm not following," Blair was confused.

"A super hero, that's what you are to me," Theresa sipped her wine. "You are all those things you said about Jo."

"No, I'm not," Blair smiled self-consciously.

"Yeah, you are," Theresa sipped her wine. "It's just like, you've been such a hero to me: helping me get my business started, taking care of me and my family, fighting with the underground resistance…"

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that," Blair rolled her eyes.

"You have to let me in, Blair!" Theresa pleaded. "I want to fight for our country like you do!"

"It's too dangerous, Theresa. You just need to focus on your family."

"But, I want to follow _you_ , Blair! Be part of what matters!"

"Your family matters," Blair shook her head.

"I want to do more!" Theresa insisted.

"I feel that," Blair placed her hand on top of her friend's. "I just want you to be safe."

"Safe is boring, Blair."

"You are not boring, Theresa," she eyed the young woman. She looked sad. Blair was a soft touch when it came to women looking sad.

"Listen," she squeezed her hand. "If you promise to keep up with the business, I'll promise to include you, when I can, in the other thing… which we won't mention."

"If that's the best we can do," Theresa sighed. They both turned their attention to the balcony.

"Okay, Blake, your turn!" Jo placed the control in the child's hand. "Make it fly!"

The boy took the controls and expertly directed the drone above the skyline of New York City. _New Trump City,_ Jo remembered as the drone was suddenly bathed in the rotating red light emanating from on top of the Dark Tower.

"Did everyone get a turn?" she asked absently as Blake flew the drone back to the balcony. "Then it's time for ice cream!"

"Yea!" was a universal language for ice cream. The boys hugged Jo as she walked them inside. "Jo! Jo! Jo!"

"Jo is so cool!" Arianna beamed to Blair.

"Tell me about it," Blair gave Jo a smirk.

They were interrupted as the penthouse elevator door opened. Maria walked in.

"Niños!" she cried out. "You should be in bed!"

"Not before ice cream," Blair gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I am so happy you are here!" Maria returned her kiss. "I was worried about you! Is your girlfriend safe?"

"Maria, I would like you to meet Jo Polniaczek, my better half!" she grinned at Jo. "Jo, this is Maria, Valeria's Mom!"

"Very nice to meet you," Jo took her hand.

"Que bonita!" Maria placed her hand on her cheek. "You are beautiful!"

"Ah," Jo blushed. "Thanks, Ma'am."

"Ice cream and then bed!" Maria clapped her hands at the children as they all made their way into the kitchen.

"She's such a Mom," Jo shrugged at Blair. "I love her!"

"I told you she was great," Blair wrapped her arms around her waist.

"So, they're stayin' the night?" Jo asked.

"Yeah. I told V her family could stay here after the show. She's going to be partying all night and it was going to be too late to drive the kids home, so yeah. Besides, there's more than enough room here. The place is positively cavernous! You don't have a problem with them staying, do you?"

"No. They're great kids," Jo smiled. "How did their sister end up being such an asshole?'

"My question, exactly," Theresa agreed.

"Okay you two," Blair walked over to the sofa and plopped down. "That's quite enough."

Jo and Theresa settled in on the couch beside her.

"Oh, by the way, Jo… Theresa is living with me now."

"What?" Jo was surprised.

"Don't worry, she's just a friend," Blair assured. "It's just that she's running a business downstairs and I get lonely up here in such a big place."

"So, Blake is your brother, huh?" Jo looked to Theresa.

"Yep," Theresa nodded.

"He's amazing," Jo broke into a huge smile. "What a great kid!"

"Blair's right," Theresa smiled back. "You _are_ like a super hero!"

"Blair said that?" Jo nudged her on the couch.

"Yeah. I said that," Blair nudged her back.

"I _so_ want to help with the cause more than I am!" Theresa blurted to Jo. "But Blair doesn't want me to get involved."

"I think there are lots of things you could do to help," Jo nodded at her

"I want to be a woman of action, like Blair," Theresa stated resolutely. "I want to be part of your underground group!"

"Really? Cause I'd do almost anything _not to be_ a part of my own underground group!" Jo laughed.

"It matters to me," Theresa insisted.

"Well," Jo changed her demeanor as she glanced at her seriously. She turned her gaze to Blair. "I think we could find a role for Theresa, don't you?"

"I think her role should be pretty limited, seeing as she has just started up a new business."

"C'mon, Blair!" Theresa complained.

"I'll go with whatever Jo feels is appropriate," Blair finally relented.

"I'll take it! Thank you, Blair," Theresa smiled and yawned. "I'm thinking of turning in. Have you been upstairs here, Jo?"

"I _have_ been here before," Jo gave her a grin.

"Oh my God! It's like a mansion in the air!" Theresa enthused. "I've only lived in a little two-bedroom out in the burbs before this."

"I'm from a little two-bedroom in the Bronx," Jo smiled broadly. "I know the feeling!"

"It was so nice to meet you," Theresa shook her hand.

"Get over here," Jo stood and pulled her into a hug. "Any friend of Blair's, is a friend of mine."

She sat back down on the sofa beside Blair as they watched her run up the stairs.

"Sweet kid," Jo said.

"That's why I don't want her involved in anything dangerous. She's barely out of high school!"

"C'mon, she's over 21, right?"

"Just barely! Promise me you won't give her any dangerous assignments!"

"Hey, I'm not going to involve her at all if you don't want me to," Jo gazed at her seriously.

"Good. Thank you."

"Well, she did have one suggestion we could both take," Jo raised her eyebrows.

"What's that?"

Jo moved in close to her and whispered in her ear. "Time for bed?"

* * *

Their relationship had certainly evolved over the years, Jo reflected as she gazed at Blair's naked flesh. But one thing had never changed: her desire for her. She was just hopelessly attracted. She liked her as she was now: full bodied with large breasts and a perfectly rounded ass. She was full, but firm. Just perfect. There was a time, when she was attending law school and felt the pressure of having to assume responsibilities in her father's company, when Blair had dropped a considerable amount of weight. Many complimented her on it. But it had worried Jo. It just wasn't Blair to be thin and she knew it was a stressful time for her. She was a full-bodied woman in a very healthy sense and Jo loved that about her. Blair's ampleness represented her confidence in her own self-image, not listening to those who would have her looking like an emaciated fashion model. And when Blair filled out… it was in all the right places. She was a Botticelli… a work of art!

" _She's my work of art,"_ Jo felt possessive as her hand moved gently over her breasts. _"And I don't want to share her."_

"Um, Blair," she began slowly.

"Yes, Jo," Blair sighed.

"You weren't serious about a three-way, were you?"

"Why? You want to do it?"

"No! I _don't_ want to do it," Jo gave her a stern glance.

"Okay," Blair shrugged. "I was just kidding, anyway, trying to provoke you."

"You provoke me enough as it is. You don't need to try. Besides, the way I see it, we already have a three-way going on."

"I'm not following," Blair looked confused.

"Cali. It's just a matter of time before we forget to turn her off before we jump into bed."

"Oh shit!" Blair checked for her earpiece.

"Blair?"

"Oh! Here it is!" she reached for the nightstand and she sighed in relief. "I turned it off."

"Damn, Blair," Jo shook her head. "The last thing I need is for Cali to be in on our love making."

"Oh, I don't know. I think it could be a broadening experience for her. She's always wanting to understand more about the human condition. Including her in sex might be an interesting experience."

"You're doing it again."

"I'm doing what?"

"Provoking me."

"I'm just trying to keep things lively."

"Oh? I'm not lively enough for you now?" Jo raised an eyebrow. "You need Cali or Valeria in here with us to liven things up?"

"Stop being so serious!" Blair swatted her. "If I can't tease you, who can? Lighten up, Jo."

"Yeah. You're right. I _am_ too serious these days. I've got a lot on my mind all the time. Truthfully, Blair, it's so good having you back in my life. I just don't want to lose you or share you. I don't know what I'd do without you," she gazed at her expectantly.

"Play your cards right and you'll never have to find out," Blair grinned as she cuddled up to her.

"There is something I want to talk to you about," Jo ran her fingers through her hair.

"What is it, Babe?" Blair nuzzled her neck.

"I'm just not okay with the theater for Tootie idea. It's a bridge too far, Blair. I can't go there."

"Seriously, Jo?" Blair leaned back into the pillows.

"It's just so unnecessary."

"Not to her, it's not."

"Just hear me out, Blair."

"That's what I'm here for," she propped herself up on her elbow.

"Just think about it. We've got government officials at the very pinnacle of power coming in the front door of the club and the art crowd gathering in the back of the building next door? It's a recipe for disaster."

"Yeah. When you put it like that," Blair relented.

"I've put a lot of effort into making that club a success. It pays for everything else we do. It's dangerous enough having the medical clinic and studio next door. But they won't attract attention… a theater will."

"Okay. Okay, I see your point. We'll just have to find another place for Tootie to stage her play."

"That's another thing, Blair: Tootie's play. Is it really worth her being thrown back into prison over? Do you remember that play she wrote back in Peekskill?"

Blair looked at her quizzically for a moment before a look of amusement overtook her features. "It was about Eleanor Roosevelt? What was it called?"

Jo and Blair looked at each other blankly for a moment, before both blurted out: "Eleanor and Me!"

They both started laughing.

"It was awful!" Jo was still chuckling as she thought of Tootie's one-woman play.

"Truly dreadful," Blair agreed. "But, maybe she's gotten better since then. I mean, she's had some success on Broadway. She guest-starred on a few T.V. shows. She must've learned something. And, besides, Natalie helped her write this one!"

"Look, I don't care if it's the frickin' _Crucible_ , it's not worth the risk!"

"Well, she's going to do what she wants whether you help her or not," Blair pointed out.

"I'm sure you'll be there to help her out, though."

"Yeah, I've got her back."

"Hey! Don't say it like that. I've got everyone's back! I broke her and Nat out of jail, didn't I?"

"I just meant I can protect her."

"Yeah, with the gun in your handbag. Listen, Blair, you can't go around shooting up the streets of New York City!"

"Maybe not. But in New Trump City? I can shoot anything I want."

"You're scaring me, Blondie."

"I'm a good shot, Jo. I can't explain it, but I like it. I'm finally good at something that takes physical coordination. You're a natural athlete, you can't understand what it's like for me to take aim and be able to hit a moving target. Plus, I like being good at something you're not, for once."

"I used to be a good shot, until…" her voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Blair stroked her cheek. "That was insensitive me."

"Maybe we should just go to sleep now," Jo shook her head.

"Don't be mad, Jo."

"I'm not mad, Blair. I'm just," she stopped and thought for a moment. "Frustrated."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Blair ran her hand up her torso and over her breasts.

"You're insatiable," Jo gave her a little smile.

"Guilty," she kissed her deeply before moving her lips to her nipples and running her hand down between her legs. "Still frustrated?" she grinned up at her.

"It's getting better," Jo's head rolled back on the pillow.

* * *

Jo woke up with a start. She had heard something crash downstairs.

"Blair," she shook her lover and whispered hoarsely. "Blair, wake up!"

"Um, what is it?" Blair responded groggily.

"I heard a noise downstairs."

"No, you didn't," Blair mumbled, her eyes still closed. "Do you really think my Mom would buy a place that wasn't sound-proofed? You were dreaming. Go back to sleep."

There was a loud thump as Blair's eyes flew open.

"Okay. I heard that, too!"

"Let's not overreact," Jo cautioned. "It could be Theresa or one of the kids."

"Doing what?" Blair questioned as she sat up and pulled the sheets up under her chin. "Trashing the place?"

"I don't know," Jo admitted.

"I'm getting my gun!" Blair jumped out of bed and quickly put on a shirt and some sweatpants.

"Okay, just hold on minute," Jo followed her out of bed and pulled on her jeans and a shirt. "Let's think this out!"

"What's there to think about? There's an intruder downstairs and I'm not going down there without my gun!"

"We need a plan, Blair," Jo cautioned. "I mean, what if it's the Russians?"

"In my house?" Blair was outraged. "I'm going to shoot them!"

She walked over to her purse with purpose. She pulled out her gun and loaded a new magazine. She effortlessly cycled the slide. Jo had to admit, she was impressed by her girlfriend's new-found expertise with firearms. That pistol was locked and loaded fast! This was a definitely a new side to Blair!

"So, what are we going to do?" Jo asked tentatively, unused to not being in command.

"Well, you're going first… duh."

"What? You're the one with the gun!"

"But you're the brave one," Blair countered. She bit her lip. "Okay. Here, you take the gun." She held out the pistol.

"You know I can't shoot, Blair," Jo shook her head as she gave her an incredulous look.

"But, I always walk behind you in scary situations," Blair eyed her. "That's your job."

"You know what?" Jo gazed at her in an irritated manner. "I _will_ go first. Just to keep you from going off with that gun prematurely. But promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Don't shoot me!"

"Deal," Blair gave her a little smile.

They opened the door and snuck down the hallway quietly. Blair held the gun to her side with one hand and grabbed Jo's shirt with the other.

"Knock it off, Blair," Jo whispered as she swatted Blair's hand away from her shirt.

"What?" Blair whispered as she grabbed her shirt again.

Jo shook her head as they made their way slowly down the stairs. Blair was practically pinned to her back. They could hear voices. These intruders were bold! Blair raised the gun to her ear as she leaned nervously on Jo. As they reached the bottom of the steps, Blair jumped out from behind Jo's back and pointed her weapon.

"Freeze!" she yelled.

Several young men looked at her with a shocked and frightened look on their faces.

"Don't shoot!" one of them cried out.

"On your knees!" Blair continued to point the gun at them.

They all immediately complied.

"Blair, why do you threaten my people?" Valera emerged from the kitchen with her usual élan.

"V?" Blair gave her a disbelieving glance as she lowered her weapon. "What the hell?"

"You said I could stay the night," Valeria shrugged. "If I wanted."

"Yeah, but I expected you to be partying all night with groupies and such. I didn't really think you'd show up here!"

"I am not welcome, then?"

"Of course, you're welcome," she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. "I just didn't really expect you to show up. And I definitely didn't expect you to show up with a crew," she waved her gun at the young men still on their knees on the floor. They all ducked and covered their heads.

"Oh, sorry," Blair placed the gun down. "You can get up now."

"Um, where's the bathroom?" one of them asked nervously.

"Down the hall, to your right," Blair gestured as he quickly made his way down the hall.

"We did party," Valeria explained. "But, I grew bored. It was empty without my family and you."

Blair smiled at her and shook her head.

"I cannot find the wine," V complained.

"In the kitchen," she walked over to her and looked back to Jo, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs with her hands placed on her hips in a defiant manner. "Coming?"

"Of course!" Jo rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Why not?"

"The wine is in the wine cabinet," Blair brushed against V as she reached up and grabbed out a bottle of red. "Hand me the opener, Jo."

Jo brushed against V as she opened a drawer.

"Are you intentionally standing in our way?" Jo asked brusquely as she retrieved the opener.

"Hello, Jo," Valeria lifted an eyebrow.

Blair retrieved three glasses and poured the wine.

"To tonight!" she raised her glass. "An absolute triumph!"

"That no one got shot!" Jo clinked her glass.

"To no one got shot!" V clinked her glass with them. "But, I did kill it tonight, didn't I, Blair?"

"You did!" she smiled as they all took a sip of wine.

"You smell like sex," Valeria eyed Blair.

"And your point is?" Blair eyed her back.

"You also smell like sex," V looked at Jo.

"There's a reason for that," Jo placed her hand on Blair's back possessively as she took another sip of wine.

"I do not smell like sex," Valeria smiled at them both. "We should fix this."

"Hey, if you haven't had sex tonight, that's your own fault," Jo pointed out. "I'm sure you had plenty of opportunities. But Blair is mine, got it?"

"You are so forceful, Jo," V eyed her up and down. "I find this very attractive."

"Blair?" Jo drew out her name.

"Jo's not into it," Blair took a sip of wine. "Sorry, V."

"Don't apologize to her!" Jo was upset. "She has some nerve showing up here with a bunch of guys at four in the morning expecting us to fuck her!"

"So forceful," Valeria moved close to her, dipped her finger in her wine glass and gently traced her lips.

"Knock it off!" Jo protested, even though it had sent a charge through her body.

"Blair, I am sorry," V changed her tone and retreated to lean against the kitchen counter. "My guys are drunk. One of them accidently knocked your television off the wall."

"Explains the crash," Blair nodded.

"And the thump," Jo agreed.

"We thought you were Russians, V! God, we were so scared!"

"I apologize for frightening you. The after-party was fun, but I just wanted to be with people who love me, after a while. Maybe, I am not so good at the pop star lifestyle."

"You seem well suited to it to me," Jo noticed.

"Maybe not so much as you think."

"What happened, V?" Blair asked.

"It was a wonderful show, was it not, Blair?"

"You were amazing! It was completely mind-blowing! The reviews will be marvelous in front of your CD drop."

"Effuse much, Blair?" Jo gave her a chastising look.

"Jo, I wish you could've been there! V has just jump-started her career into the upper echelons of stardom!"

"But, it did not feel like a victory when I got back to the party my manager had set up," Valeria shook her head. "Jo is right. It is my own fault I have not had sex. There were boys, there were girls: all available to me. But it felt empty without those who really love me."

"That is so sweet," Blair hugged her. "I hope you know how proud we all are of you! I'm glad you came here tonight."

"Thank you, Blair. I apologize for my crew. They are boys who have been with me for a long time. They did not want to leave me tonight."

"Why?" Jo asked incredulously. "The way I understand the music scene, there was probably a lot of tail available to them, too."

"Jo, I am sorry I have offended you," Valeria approached her. She hesitated as she waited for Jo to react. When she didn't, she gave her warm hug. She held her tight and whispered in her ear: "I do not want to be your enemy."

"Yeah, yeah, alright then," Jo allowed the hug. She finally backed her away, and with both hands placed upon her shoulders, looked her in the eye. "But, Blair is mine, Valeria. Get your own girl!"

"Maybe I will choose you," V shrugged as she backed away and poured herself another glass of wine.

"She's horrible, Blair!" Jo complained.

"If you want to look at it that way," Blair laughed as she turned to Valeria. "I think she's marvelous. I'm glad you felt like coming here tonight."

"Ah, Jesus," Jo yawned. "I'm going back to bed. You coming?"

"So, are you staying the night, V?" Blair questioned.

"Of course."

"I have your Mom and Arianna in one bedroom, the boys in another, and Theresa in a third. That leaves a bedroom for you, but not enough room for your crew. Sorry."

"They are drunk, Blair. Can they crash on your couches?"

"Sure. I'll get some blankets… just so long as they don't crash anything else!"

"I will have a word with them."

"Good. You'll be in the second room on the right, up the stairs."

"Next to Theresa's?"

"Right."

"Jo, will you come and tuck me in?" Valera gave her a seductive look. "Give me a kiss goodnight?"

"Good night, Valeria," Jo shook her head.

* * *

Blair knew she would be in for it from Jo as soon as the bedroom door closed. She wasn't wrong.

"How, _the hell_ , does she know which bedroom Theresa sleeps in? She's been here before, hasn't she Blair?"

"Of course she has. She's my friend. I gave her the tour."

"You're sleeping with her, aren't you!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not," Jo sat down on the side of the bed and crossed her arms over her chest.

Blair knelt behind her and wrapped her in an embrace.

"Didn't we make love twice tonight?" she whispered in her ear. "She could _smell_ sex on us, Jo!"

"You gave her the key to your penthouse?" Jo complained.

"I did, but just for tonight. Her family's staying here."

"You told her that I wasn't _into it_ , Blair… meaning a three-way? You weren't joking about that just to provoke me."

"I'm here with you," Blair rocked her and kissed her head. "That's all that matters to me."

"And if I tell you to make a choice?"

"What?" she released her embrace and moved to sit beside her. "If you _tell_ me to?"

"Alright then… if I _ask_ you to make a choice."

"An ultimatum?" Blair stood up and looked back down at Jo. "Her or you?"

"Call it what you want," Jo glared up at her.

"Huh," Blair placed her hands on her hips. "You know what really bugs me about this? It's that you don't trust me. You know how important trust is to me."

Jo didn't really know what she was feeling. She was just sorry that she had ever let Blair go in the first place. It was that incident that led Blair to be with all those other women in Europe. Maybe she had a taste for it now: other women. Maybe she wasn't good enough for her anymore.

"That's not it," she finally managed to respond honestly. "I'm just worried that now that you've been with so many other women, I'm not good enough for you anymore."

"Why would you think that, Jo? I never loved them the way I love you. I told you that, remember?"

"I know, I know," Jo shook her head. "I'm sorry I'm such a jealous girlfriend."

"Listen," Blair smiled and knelt before her, placing both hands on her knees. "I think she's fantastic. I love having her in my life and I would hate to lose her. But, you're the most important thing in the world to me and if you really want me to cut my relationship with Valeria, I will."

Jo thought for a moment.

"Nah, I _do_ trust you. I have no right to ask you that. I don't want to be the kind of girlfriend who restricts what can you do and who you can see."

"Really, Jo?"

"Really, Blair. I know she's important to you and she does seem to be an equal opportunity offender as far as her inappropriate advances are concerned."

"Yep. She was coming on to you, too."

"Probably just to provoke you," Jo conjectured.

"I doubt it. You _are_ quite irresistible."

"Alright then," Jo gave her a crooked grin. "I can live with V in your life, I guess. Just so long as you don't give in to her!"

"I won't if you don't," Blair grinned mischievously.

"I think I can manage that," Jo gave her a smirk.

Blair kissed her and rested her forehead against her.

"I love you, Jo Polniaczek."

* * *

Jo felt confident hands massaging her breasts, replaced by the warm mouth of her lover. She bucked up at the touch of tongue to nipple. She felt her tongue make its way down her body until it tickled the wetness between her legs, then plunged into her center. _Oh God! Oh God!_ she called out as Valeria ravaged her.

"No!" she awoke with a start. She looked down at Blair sleeping peacefully beside her.

"Oh shit."


	18. What's That You Say, Jo Polniaczek?

Blair always smelled so good, Jo noticed. And it wasn't like you could smell her expensive fragrance coming from across the room, like some people. No. There was always just the trace of a scent. When you were close to her, you would catch the barest hint, enough to leave you wanting more, enough to make you want to be close to her again. As with most things cosmetic, Blair had perfected the art of applying perfume. She never wore anything too sweet: usually a light musk, or something exotic, mysterious. Jo reflected upon this as they walked hand-in-hand through Central Park. Her special scent was just for her, the only person close enough to notice.

They had decided to venture out into the park to catch up with Theresa. She had taken the kids there to fly the drone in open space. Blair and Jo had slept in later than the others. By the time they got up, Maria had made everyone go to church and had prepared breakfast. Jo was amazed to find Valeria playing the piano with Blake when they came downstairs. She was so kind and patient with the young boy. Theresa had given them both an incredulous look. Blair had just smiled and shook her head.

"It's nice being out with you," Jo mentioned as they headed at a leisurely pace towards the meadow.

"That's what Sundays are for, right?" Blair nudged her.

"Right," Jo linked her arm with her girlfriend's. "You smell nice."

"Ah, thanks, Jo. That's so sweet!"

It was a sunny afternoon, but an autumn chill was in the air. All the leaves had changed color and it was an absolutely glorious stroll through the park. These were their most precious times: Sundays and Mondays away from stress and pressures of their work with the underground. It was a time to breathe free and relax. They walked down the path to the meadow. What they saw, surprised them. Valeria was chasing the drone around with the kids and Theresa. They both broke into a jog to join the others.

"So, how'd you beat us here, V?" Blair asked her friend.

"I finished with my agent early," she shrugged.

"Yeah, but, we left while you were still tied up on the phone," Jo questioned her skeptically. "So, how the hell, did you beat us here?"

"I wore my skates," Valeria deadpanned.

Before Jo could stop herself, she stared down at her feet.

"Very funny," she smirked her.

Valeria was without make-up. She wore a jacket, jeans and tennis shoes with a scarf thrown around her neck. A knit cap framed her face. Her cheeks were flushed from running and her brown eyes twinkled brightly. She looked so different. Still naturally beautiful, but somehow younger, almost wholesome. She fit right in with Theresa and the kids. No one would suspect there was a pop star in their midst.

"My turn!" she called out to the others as she ran over and took the controller. As V soared the drone up and down with the kids in hot pursuit, Theresa walked over. She had something tucked under her arm.

"Got a football, Jo!" she smiled broadly. "Wanna' play catch?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jo enthused. "I haven't tossed a ball in forever!"

"Hey! Wait a minute," Blair complained. "What am I supposed to do while you two play catch?"

Theresa and Jo shrugged at each other. "Monkey in the middle?"

"What's monkey in the middle?" Blair questioned innocently.

"Stand here," Jo positioned her. She and Theresa jogged off equal distances from her and began tossing the ball back and forth.

"What am I supposed to do?" Blair complained.

"Get the ball, Blair! You're the monkey in the middle!" Jo laughed.

"What?"

"Get the ball, Blair!"

"This is ridiculous you guys," Blair protested. "I'm not a monkey."

"You just can't get the ball," Jo teased.

"Because you're throwing it too high!"

"Okay! We'll throw it lower!" Jo zipped a ball directly over her head. Blair screamed and threw her arms over her head in a protective gesture. "Still can't get it!"

"I can too!" Blair started waving her hands wildly over her head each time they threw the ball. She finally managed to knock one down. "Dammit, Jo! I broke a nail!"

"You've got to pick it up, Blair!"

"What? Why?"

"Just pick it up!" Theresa called out.

Blair picked up the ball. "Now what?"

A mischievous look crossed Jo's features. "Run!"

Blair screamed loudly as she began to run with the ball. Jo was the first to catch her. She dragged her to the ground and rolled her over. She brushed wild strands of hair away from Blair's face as she wrapped her leg around her.

"Barbarian," Blair let out breathlessly.

Jo couldn't help herself. She kissed her. Blair returned the kiss and deepened it.

"So, this is football, huh?" Blair nipped Jo's lips again. "I could get used to it."

"Hey guys, we're in a public park, ya' know?" Theresa pointed out.

"Didn't Theresa throw the last pass, Blair?"

"She did!"

"You know what that means!"

"Uh, no, what?" Blair looked confused.

"She's the monkey in the middle!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Theresa snatched the ball and began to run.

"Let's get her, Blair!" Jo jumped up and began chasing Theresa. The kids had notice what was going on. They joined in the chase. Theresa proved to be fairly elusive as she zig-zagged across the grass. Everyone was laughing as Theresa finally allowed her brother to tackle her. She tossed him the ball as he began to run.

Blair was taking a timeout as Valeria sidled up to her.

"So… this is American football?" she nudged her.

"Apparently," Blair rolled her eyes as she held her hand out for her friend to see. "All I know is it cost me a nail."

"An unfortunate consequence," Valeria agreed. She turned her gaze to the others and smiled. "But, everyone is having fun. I have waited so long to laugh and play with my family again. This is very good, Blair. I have you to thank for this."

"Nah," Blair threw her arm around her and squeezed her tight. "It was a group effort. Totally worth it!"

* * *

"I'm sore from today, Jo," Blair laughed as she rolled onto her side. "Look, I have a bruise."

"OMG, Blair!" Jo exclaimed as she viewed the black and blue mark on Blair's hip. "I didn't know! I thought I dropped you so gently!"

"Oh, it wasn't you. I got totally broadsided by Theresa. My first football injury!"

"Let me kiss it better," Jo gently applied her lips to the discoloration on her flesh. "You know, I was proud of you today."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You were such a good sport. I mean, you actually participated in a game with a ball!"

"I'm always a good sport, aren't I? I mean, at least I've always tried things."

"Yeah, like field hockey."

"And car stealing."

"Good times, Blair," Jo laughed as she ran her hand over her bare flesh.

"Did you have a good time tonight?"

"Always," Jo kissed her cheek and neck. "You never have to wonder about that."

"No, Silly," Blair swatted her gently. "I didn't mean _that!_ I meant at dinner tonight."

"You weren't joking about V's mother. That was one of the best meals I've ever had!"

"She _is_ a cook!"

"And then they all sang after dinner? It was like all Kumbaya and shit! I couldn't believe how sweet Valeria was with the kids and Theresa's family."

"It was so nice Theresa's Mom could stay for dinner when she came to pick up Blake. And I told you V was really sweet!"

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm seeing it… a little," she admitted begrudgingly.

"We have to really appreciate the good times now, Jo," Blair wrapped her in her arms. "The future is precarious, to say the least. I want to be with you all the time and I can't. We only have a couple days a week. You have no idea how much I miss you every other day!"

Jo rolled over so that she was holding Blair with a leg thrown around her. Blair loved this. She loved everything about Jo's physicality. She was just so natural in her movements. She was so completely graceful. She was sure Jo didn't realize this, herself, but Blair noticed it. Jo could seemingly do everything with ease. All her movements were natural and smooth. Her every motion was confident. It was just an inherent part of who she was. And when she was wrapped up in her arms, it was everything. It was an unspoken agreement between them: Jo would roll her over and hold her in a protective manner, which both of them knew she didn't actually need but, somehow, desired. It was better not to mention or remember how both of them had been apart and how both had managed to move on in life without the other. Because when Jo held her like this, it felt like all wounds were healed. For all the verbal sparring they engaged in, there was much of their relationship that existed on an intrinsic level. Like this moment: Jo holding her. She wouldn't give this up for anything.

A thought suddenly crossed her mind: _Why was it Jo didn't like her shooting? Was she threatened by it? Was she really worried that guns were dangerous or was it something else? Was she encroaching on Jo's territory as an athlete? She was a really good shot. Jo would just have to accept that. Because, damn it, she was finally good at something which took physical skill, besides painting, that is._ Her mind was racing as a gentle kiss was placed upon her brow.

"I miss you too, Blair. Every day… more than I could ever tell you."

Jo rarely expressed herself in such flowery terms! Blair's heart filled with love.

"I adore you, Jo."

"Me too, Babe," Jo squeezed her tight.

* * *

How could so many people just carry on with their normal lives, when the entire system of government in the United States had been turned upside down? This really bothered Jo. She was consistently flummoxed by the attitudes of gas station workers and restaurant waitresses who carried on as if everything was normal, even though Russians had completely subverted the democratic process and oligarchs had taken over the country. Her mother had tried to explain it to her: these people never had anything anyway. What difference did it make to them who was running the country? Their lot was the same. There was some merit to this. If you're already oppressed, what difference does it make who is doing the oppression?

Her father's perspective was different. He was a union worker. The unions, what was left of them, understood what was happening: the complete destruction of the middle class in favor of a working class ruled by rich overlords with no regard for workers' rights. All the money flowed up with no concern for the regular people who made everything possible. What was called trickle-down economics: supply the rich with all they want and they will take care of the workers was truly "voodoo economics." The fiduciary responsibility of money-making companies was to their stockholders, not their workers. A more appropriate term was from the 1880's. It was called the horse-and-sparrow theory: If you feed the horse enough oats, some will pass through to the road for the sparrows. So, basically, American workers were the sparrows, supposed to pick their oats out of the horse shit the rich left on the road.

She felt wholly unqualified to alter this dynamic. She wasn't a firebrand, revolutionary speaker like Sam Adams. She wasn't a civil rights visionary like Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King. She wasn't a union organizer like Cesar Chavez. She was just her: a hard-scrabble kid from the Bronx thrust into a seemingly impossible battle with the richest, most powerful men in the world.

A new order had come in from her own bosses. There was to be an action at the Dark Tower. People were being organized to surround the building and shut it down. She didn't like it. It was too dangerous. It would entail a confrontation with the Trump Security Forces that guarded the place. She didn't want to risk her people on what would be a mainly symbolic gesture. Yet, she was expected to participate. Actions were also being called for that day at the Whitehouse and Mar-a-Lago… so they would be sure to trap Trump!

She had another assignment, as well. One she liked better. Computer espionage. Using the info Blair had provided from her Russian contact on the flash drive, Cali had traced several Russian hackers and had an idea of how to shut them down. She was working with the A.I. every day on this. It was something she couldn't farm out to the kids at Mary Anne MacLeod Trump High School. If it was traced back to them, their lives could be in danger.

She poured herself a cup of morning coffee and flipped open her laptop.

" _Ready to get going, Jo?"_ Cali asked.

"No. Let me check the headlines from Fake News first," Jo yawned.

" _Bullet-to-the-Head Hats Are All the Rage!"_ was the headline. There were several photos of celebrities wearing hats with bullet holes in them.

"Damn, Blair!" Jo cursed.

Blair had not only paid for the damage at the haberdasher shop Jo had accidently shot up, she had purchased and started wearing the bullet-damaged hats form the store. And once a photo of Blair Warner was published wearing a bullet-hole-in-the-head-hat, it became more than stylish, it was a fashion trend!

" _I think it's a highly creative way for Blair to have made right for the damage to that shop,"_ Cali observed.

"I find it extremely irritating," Jo grimaced. "A constant reminder of my bad shooting!"

" _I'm not completely used to human humor, Jo. But I do find this kind of funny."_

"I know Blair finds it hysterical!"

" _You must see the humor. People at the very top of human society financially, purposefully damaging hats… to be fashionable? It is funny, Jo!"_

"Yeah, ha ha, let's get down to business…"

* * *

Theresa rode up on the elevator with Cecil Broadbent. He looked over at her, smiled and nodded politely.

"I don't mean to seem forward, but you look familiar to me."

"Yeah," Theresa grinned. "You've seen me a couple of times over at the Carlyle. I was there to give Blair massages."

"Oh," he nodded again. A look of recognition suddenly crossed his features. "Oh!"

"I don't recall that we were ever formally introduced," she held out her hand. "Theresa Flynn."

"Cecil Broadbent," he took her hand. "Very pleased to finally meet you."

"You mean without a naked Blair around?"

"Well, um, yes, now that you mention it," he straightened his tie. "Are you here for a massage appointment? I only ask because I told Blair I was coming over."

"Nope. No massage. I live here now. I'm Blair's roommate!"

"Oh! Good for you!"

"Yep. We're in business together, too. Blair got me a massage space downstairs and invested start-up money."

"Well, congratulations," he offered courteously.

"I'm so lucky. I never dreamed someone like Blair would take an interest in me, let alone be my friend. I'm just so," she hesitated and gave him a disarming smile, "happy!"

"Blair definitely has that effect on people. She is a special young woman," Cecil smiled back as he held his arm out for her to exit first as the elevator doors opened.

"Oh, thank you, sir," Theresa stepped into the penthouse. She looked around expecting to see her roommate. But she didn't appear to be downstairs. It was after eleven. She had come up to grab some lunch. She couldn't still be in bed, could she? "Blair?"

"She doesn't appear to be in the living room," Cecil reported as Theresa checked the kitchen and library.

"I'll go upstairs. Try to roust her for you," Theresa offered as she bounded up the stairs.

"Blair? Hey… Blair!" Theresa called out.

"Where's the fire?" Blair opened her bedroom door in an irritated manner.

"There you are!" Theresa answered. "Your friend, the old guy, is downstairs."

"Come in. I'm just getting dressed."

Katy Perry was playing.

"Oh, I love this song!" Theresa enthused.

" _Cause baby you're a firework,_ _c_ _ome on show 'em what you're worth…_ _Make 'em go oh, oh, oh! As you shoot across the sky,"_ they sang the chorus loudly together.

" _Boom, boom, boom… Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon,"_ Blair twirled her around. Theresa landed on the bed as they both laughed.

"So, anyway, you knew he was coming, right?" Theresa asked as she sat up and watched as Blair dropped her robe.

"Yeah, yeah," Blair rifled through her closet. "But why does he always insist on being so punctual?"

"Um, I dunno'?" Theresa leaned back on both elbows. "But, I talked with him on the ride up. Seems like a sweet man, really. A bit uptight, but…"

"Always prompt!" Blair turned with a shirt and some slacks displayed before her. "Whadda' you think?"

"I think all your clothes are great," she shrugged.

Blair walked over to her dresser and opened her underwear drawer. She rifled through it sending lingerie all over the room.

"What are you doing?" Theresa pulled a bra off her head as she walked over to her.

"I want to show you something. I got this Paris," Blair held up a shimmery pair of under pants and a bra.

"Oh my God, that's beautiful!" Theresa enthused. "The color alone…"

"It's luminescent lavender," Blair smiled proudly.

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure," Blair shrugged as she donned some simple cotton undies and a sports bra.

"Wow! So soft!" Theresa enthused as she held the Paris underwear. "And it's weird, it's like you can see through it, but you can't, all at the same time."

"I know, right?" Blair was happy that her friend appreciated her excellent underwear. "I'm saving this for a special occasion, to spring on Jo."

"So," Theresa scratched her head. "You think about underwear in your relationship?"

"Of course! Don't you? I mean, you have to pay attention to the details to keep things interesting, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know," Theresa handed the panties back to Blair.

"Take my word for it. I mean, beyond all the over-arching aspects to a relationship, paying attention to the little things makes a difference," Blair waved at her closet as she pulled on her pants. "Pick me out a pair of shoes to go with these jeans."

"Jo's so lucky," Theresa shook her head as she made her way over to the closet.

"I wonder what Cecil wants," Blair pulled on her shirt.

"You don't know?" her friend tossed her a pair of shoes.

"Tennis shoes?" Blair gave her a questioning look.

"Yeah. Your friend's a little formal. Why not keep it casual?"

"Good thinking, Theresa! Keep him on the defensive!"

"You're worried?"

"Not at all," Blair sat on the bed and laced up her shoes. "Just always good to have the advantage!"

"Good point!" Theresa nodded. Blair was like a mentor to her. Everything she said was noted mentally and stored for future reference.

Cecil waited apprehensively downstairs. He crossed and uncrossed his legs nervously. He wasn't quite sure how he would broach this subject with Blair. His orders had come down: they needed someone on the inside again. He would have to ask her to make contact with the Trumps. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to come face-to-face with the man, himself, again. He was hoping his suggestion would be accepted.

"Cecil!" Blair embraced him warmly.

"Blair!" he kissed her cheek. "We need to talk."

"I'm just here to make a sandwich," Theresa smiled as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"What is it, Cecil?"

"We need you to get in touch with Ivanka, find out what they're doing with the Russians on the nuclear weapons thing."

"The nuclear weapons thing?" Blair blurted out loudly and in shock.

"Shhh!" Cecil put his finger in front of his lips and nodded towards the kitchen. But, it was too late. Theresa had already heard. She ate her sandwich silently as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

"We just have to know if it's real," Cecil whispered.

"Nuclear weapons? What on earth, Cecil?"

"Shhh!" he shushed her again. "We need you to get information about this from the inside."

"So… I'm supposed to meet up with Ivanka and just casually bring up the subject of nuclear weapons?"

"I was supposed to ask you to meet up with the man, himself. But, I didn't think that would be appropriate. Plus, I don't want you exposed to his sexual advances again. This was the compromise."

"Jesus, Cecil. Just what, exactly, am I supposed to find out?"

"If the Russians actual have new ones. We think it's just a Putin bluff, but we need to know for sure."

"Why? What could we do about it if it's not a bluff?"

"Unfortunately, you and a few like you, _are_ our intelligence community right now. What's left of our national defense needs this information to deal with it… if it's a real threat."

"I don't like this, Cecil. This is _way_ beyond what I signed on for!"

"We need you, Blair."

"Shit," Blair shook her head.

"Holy shit," Theresa whispered as she took another bite of her sandwich.

* * *

There was a loud knock on Jo's door.

"Come in!" she shouted.

Tootie and Natalie pranced into her rooms wearing hats with bullet holes through them.

"Oh my God!" Jo exclaimed. "What is wrong with you two?"

"What?" Natalie shrugged defensively. "These are the latest thing!"

"Only because I shot up a haberdasher's shop by mistake and Blair made them cool!"

"Exactly!" Tootie plopped down on her couch.

"So, you're doing this to bug me, huh?"

"It's not _always_ about you, Jo," Tootie informed. "We wanted to let you know, that since you won't let us turn the back room next door into a theater, we've found one of our own."

"Is that right?" Jo smirked.

"Valera found it for us," Natalie informed breathlessly.

"A theater?" Jo questioned.

"Yep!" Tootie nodded proudly. "It's only a couple blocks away. Her manager scored it for us!"

"Well," Jo sighed loudly. "I hope you've enjoyed the slight bit of freedom I've provided the both of you."

"We will not be arrested again, Jo," Nat assured. "The whole thing will be very hush-hush!"

"Then what's the point?" Jo eyed them incredulously.

"It's underground theater, Jo! Don't you get that?" Tootie ran her finger through the hole in her hat. "It's dangerous and romantic!"

"Dangerous is the operative word here," Jo snatched the hat from her head.

"We figured you'd be upset about this, Jo," Natalie offered. "But, we need to be doing something. We need to be creative."

"And this wasn't creative enough for you?" Jo pushed her finger through the hole in Tootie's hat before tossing it back to her. "Don't you get how reckless this is?"

"You worry too much, Jo," Tootie caught her hat. "It's a little out of the way place just right for us to put on a show."

"That Valera found for you."

"She's agreed to do the music!" Natalie's eyes grew wide.

"I'm going to kill her!" Jo spat out.

* * *

Blair hated being in the Dark Tower again. At least this time, she wasn't going to have to meet with the Orange Anus, himself! No. She had managed to wrangle a meeting with his daughter, Ivanka.

"Blair! So good to see you!" Ivanka air-kissed both cheeks.

"Good to see you, too!" Blair air-kissed her cheeks back.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Ivanka eyed her curiously.

"It's about my hats," Blair lied. "I want to start a new line of Bullet-to-the-Head hats, but I'm worried."

"About what?"

"That Vlad will blow up the world before I can launch my new line!"

"The nuclear weapons thingee?"

"Yes. That," Blair nodded.

"Don't worry," Ivanka sighed. "He only has the same old weapons as before. He's just re-branding them."

"That's good to know, Ivanka. I would hate to think that my launch of a new product could be disrupted by thermo-nuclear war and such."

"Listen, I know all about branding and all about branding hats. Vlad is just positioning himself as a major player is all… rebranding himself, if you will. Your new line of hats will be unaffected."

"Good to know," Blair exhaled loudly.

"But, Blair, I have to ask you a question."

"What's that?"

"Have you seen my father lately?"

"I have not."

"Oh."

"Why, Ivanka?"

"Nothing, I guess. I mean, he used to love me best of all, but now?"

"He doesn't?"

"He spends more and more time perusing the camera-obscura: looking for those who oppose him as his red eye sweeps the city."

"He can't possibly think you oppose him," Blair assured.

"But my husband? I'm worried, Blair. My father may be becoming slightly unhinged."

"Slightly?" Blair blurted out.

"It is a tough job being the leader of the free world," Ivanka defended.

"I agree!" Blair jumped up. "He's just going through a tough time. Thanks for meeting with me, Ivanka!"

"Well, okay, Blair," Ivanka shook her head. "But, still, I'm worried."

"Out with it, Ivanka! Worried about what?" Blair felt like she might explode.

"Well, if you must know, it's really going to affect my husband's profit margin if my father perceives him as a liability. Not only that, my own brand will be affected! How can it do us any good to be president and not make a huge profit?"

Blair clenched her fists. The whole country had been turned over to the profit-making interests of Russians and their ilk as opposed to the good of all by this woman's father. The United States of America, with liberty and justice for all, no longer existed. Freedom of speech, no longer existed. The government of the people, by the people, for the people no longer existed… all because of him. The Constitution and founding principles of the country meant nothing to these people. It was all about profit to them. All her memories of pride in her country and the values it represented had been torn asunder... all because of him. Shame is what she felt. And here was his daughter, sitting before her, worried about her husband's profit margin and her own branding. It was all she could do not to hit her in her smug face. She breathed in and exhaled slowly. She was playing a role. She remembered that.

But there was something else. Blair gazed at the woman before her. How hard would it be to realize that you were the object of your father's attention in a sexual way? And this was Ivanka's lot, wasn't it? Porn stars and Playboy Bunnies alike had reported that after sex with her father, he mentioned how much each of them reminded him of her, his daughter. To be compared to women he had just had sex with in this manner? Just not okay. Her own father was gone, in hiding from Putin's poisoners. Certainly, she was his pride and joy, but in a healthy father/daughter sort of way. He would never dream of talking about her in a lurid manner. He would be outraged at anyone who did. She felt a sudden sympathy for Ivanka. What words could she say to make her feel better… to get through to her?

"Your brand is strong. I'm sure it will survive," she stated resolutely.

"Oh, Blair, do you really think so?" Ivanka stood to embraced her.

"I do," Blair couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy as she hugged her back. She also felt a bit of her integrity slip away. _I hate this!_

* * *

Jo felt tired at the end of her nightly duties at Salacious Showers. She had done the books and secured all the money in the safe. She yawned as she made her way up the stairs to her rooms.

"I'm going to say goodnight," she mentioned to the A.I. as she passed the open laptop in her sitting room.

"Goodnight, Jo," Cali replied sweetly. "I'll keep working on things while you sleep."

"Counting on it," Jo yawned as she opened the door to her bedroom. She didn't bother to turn on the light as she dropped her jacket and dress pants and headed towards the bathroom. She picked up the burner phone that was always hidden for her there. There was a call. She returned it. "Yes, Ma'am. Got it."

She yawned and absently tossed the tiny phone into the toilet and flushed. It did not go down.

"Fuck," she waited for the toilet to reset. _What am I doing?_ She flushed again and grabbed the phone as the water cleared. _I am way too tired._ She removed the SIM card and flushed it. _Better._ She washed her hands and splashed water onto her face. She pulled off the remainder of her clothes and crashed into her bed… her head embracing the pillow like a long-lost friend. She threw her arm instinctively around Blair. Her eyes suddenly flew open.

"Blair?"

"Mmmm… Jo?" came a sleepy reply.

"What are you doing here?" Jo peered down at her.

Blair rolled over slowly. She blinked her eyes at her.

"Sleeping," she yawned as her eyes closed and she drifted off again.

"Well, okay, for now," Jo snuggled in beside her, happy to have her. "But I expect an explanation in the morning."

There was no reply.

* * *

Jo woke up with Blair draped on top of her: every inch of naked Blair pressed against every inch of naked her. It was heaven. But, she still didn't know what her girlfriend was doing there. She stroked her wild mane of hair gently and kissed her head.

"Blair?"

Blair squeezed her tight and kissed her lips.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," she smiled brightly.

"It's not that I'm not glad you're here," Jo squeezed her back, "But, what are you doing here?"

"I had the worst day yesterday, back at the Dark Tower."

"I told you not to go there again!" Jo was upset.

"But I had to, Jo. Nuclear weapons, yadda, yadda…."

"What?"

"Yeah. We've got no real intelligence community anymore, so I'm it!"

"But all the same!" Jo sat bolt upright. "You shouldn't have gone there!"

"Hey, listen, someone gave me this crappy assignment, and it's turning out to be a lot more important than we thought," Blair yawned.

"More than I ever intended!" Jo blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Blair sat up beside her.

Jo took an internal check of herself. Would this be the time to tell her? What would it cost her if she did? Blair did need to know everything. Too much was at stake now. The tables had turned. She was in _way_ deeper than Jo had ever anticipated. But, still, Blair would resent her for it and she knew it. The questions was: would she forgive her for it?

"I need to tell you something," Jo broached the subject slowly.

"Tell me what?" Blair yawned.

"It's about your assignment. I know who gave it to you and, well, you're not going to like it."

"Really, Jo? I don't think there's anything you could tell me that could make it worse."

"Yeah, actually, there is."

Blair, anticipating the unimaginable revelation, leapt out of bed. She began to dress.

"I, um, need to go. I have a massage appointment with Theresa this morning."

"Blair, sit down. You need to hear this."

"I really don't, Jo," she continued to dress.

"I was the one who chose you for your assignment!" Jo called out.

"I can't hear this now, Jo!" she put on her bullet hat, left the bedroom and headed for the door.

"We need to talk!" Jo quickly covered herself with her dress shirt from the night before. She ran after her and grabbed her by the elbow as she reached the apartment door.

Blair's eyes were filling with tears. She had no words as she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," Jo apologized. "Will you just sit down and hear me out?"

Blair sat on the end of the couch. She pulled off her hat and twisted it between her hands. Her demeanor was defeated as her head sank low.

"I had no idea how crazy this would become for you," Jo sat beside her. "I had no idea how horrible it would be. I just thought you had a natural in with the Trump's and their ilk, so when I heard you were available to become an operative, I recommended you for the assignment."

"You chose me, yourself?" Blair's voice was weak.

"I was asked what role you could play, and I suggested you become close to the inner circle, yes."

"So, a little Trump whore, like Hope Hicks or Omarosa?" Blair questioned loudly.

"That's a little harsh, Blair. Neither is a whore."

"They're willing to sell their dignity and self-esteem for a little bit of money by associating with someone who is a known traitor to our country! What do you call it?"

"Not a whore. Please don't say that."

"Okay fine then, even worse, you can get sex workers, porn stars and playboy bunnies close to Trump. That's a proven fact. Is that what you think of me?"

"Of course not! I had no idea what you would be exposed to… no one did! I just thought you could blend in easily with their crowd."

"A little Trump whore," Blair spat out.

"No, Blair! That's not it! We just needed someone on the inside, is all."

"I feel so betrayed by this," Blair exhaled slowly. "So used. So demeaned."

There was a silence between them for a moment.

"I need some time to process this," Blair finally managed.

"Meaning?" Jo tried to catch her eye.

"Meaning that I need some time to process that the person I trusted most in the entire world is the same person who assigned me to the job that I hate the most in the entire world. I just don't know what to make of this, Jo," tears began to run down her cheeks. "You should've told me earlier, when we first made love again. How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Because I'm telling you now?" Jo looked at her hopefully.

Blair did not respond. She wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head.

"Just, exactly, how mad are you?" Jo questioned nervously.

"It's more than just mad, Jo. I'm deeply hurt, don't you get that?"

"Okay, then," Jo stated apprehensively. "Just, exactly, how _hurt_ are you?"

"Pretty hurt," Blair shook her head. "You should have told me, Jo… you know?"

"I was afraid to," Jo admitted. "I was afraid of how mad you'd be and that you'd reject me again."

"So, you didn't think you could trust me with the info? Plus, you put me in the position of being hit on by Trump and Putin and the rest of their sick-fuck cabal? What must you think of me? Just a sex toy to be exploited?"

"Blair, I had no idea, none of us did, how truly sick the situation was! I never would've put you in that position had I known! Please believe me!"

Blair did not respond. She wiped away her tears again, feeling exposed that she was crying before Jo.

"Blair?" Jo placed her hand on her back.

"I, uh, just need some time to process this. I need some space to think. I'm going to ask you to give me that space, okay?"

"Okay, Blair. Whatever you need. Just know that I love you."

"I thought I knew that," Blair stood to leave.

"I do love you, Blair. There is no one in my life I love more!" Jo took her hand.

"I just need some time to process all of this, okay? I'll, um, see you later," Blair placed her crumpled hat on her head and walked briskly out of the apartment.

"Fuck me! I'm such an idiot," Jo screamed as she threw a cushion across the room.

* * *

Blair sat on the balcony of her Mom's penthouse overlooking Central Park wrapped in an expensive coat.

"Hey," Theresa joined her in her much less significant jacket. "What's up?"

"I'm upset," Blair complained. "Jo has completely betrayed me."

"I can't believe that's true," Theresa sat down and shivered beside her.

"This whole, entire horrible experience I've been having for the underground is due to her and she didn't even tell me."

"I'm sure she meant well," Theresa mentioned.

"Doesn't matter. She should have told me," Blair was adamant. "The question is: what do I do about it?"

"What do you want to do, Blair?" Theresa's teeth chattered.

"You're freezing," Blair noticed. She took off her coat and placed it around her.

"Jesus, Blair! Now _you're_ going to freeze!"

"I'm too mad to be cold! I just can't believe she didn't tell me, Theresa!"

"Did she tell you about it, or was it Cecil?"

"No. She told me herself," Blair's breath fogged as she began to shiver.

"Well, there's something to be said for that," Theresa postured. "Let's go inside. I'll make some hot chocolate. We can talk."

When Theresa returned from the kitchen with the hot chocolate, she found Blair sitting on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her, writing on a pad.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making a list," Blair returned. "Keep Jo/Dump Jo."

"Pretty serious," Theresa placed the hot chocolate in front of her. "Kinda' like a Cosmo Poll?"

"What's wrong with that? Cosmo polls have helped me figure out a lot of situations. But no… this is a list. Meanwhile, under _Dump Jo_ I have: She lied to me and set me up with the worst job I have ever had in my life!"

"Under _Keep Jo_?" Theresa questioned.

"I put that she's beautiful."

"I don't think that should matter, Blair," Theresa shook her head.

"It matters to me," Blair shrugged. "I mean, her green eyes, wavy dark hair, perfect skin, radiant smile…" her voice drifted off. "I don't know how I'd live without that. Her looks mean a lot to me."

"And if she were ugly?"

"But she's not," Blair dismissed Theresa's objection.

"Moving on," Theresa shook her head as she sipped her hot chocolate.

"Okay, under _Dump Jo_ : She betrayed my trust and put me in a horrible, dangerous, degrading position!"

"Sounds the same as the first _Dump Jo_ ," Theresa noticed.

"It's enough!" Blair shouted. "She completely betrayed me! She thought of me as a Trump whore! How can I ever forgive that?"

"Let's move on to your _Keep Jo_ list."

"I put that she's everything I ever wanted in a woman: kind, caring, intelligent, fun."

"That's a lot, Blair."

"Under _Dump Jo_ ," Blair continued, "I have that she betrayed me, was dishonest with me, and is jealous of my marksmanship!"

Theresa took a deep breath. "So, let's review: Under _Dump Jo_ you have that she was dishonest with you and betrayed your trust for which, I'm assuming, she apologized."

"Profusely," Blair admitted.

"And under _Keep Jo_ , you have that she's everything you've ever wanted in a woman: kind, caring, intelligent, fun; plus, you find her extraordinarily attractive. Do I have this right?"

"It's not as easy as it sounds," Blair complained. She looked at Theresa as tears began to run down her cheeks. "I trusted her completely and she held a secret from me. She was the person I had given my life to. I'm beyond devastated."

Blair began to cry as Theresa placed her arm around her.

"Sounds like you really love her and she really hurt you," she summed it up.

"What am I going to do?" Blair sobbed into her shoulder.

* * *

Jo walked the couple of blocks down to Tootie and Nat's rented theater. Her hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of her navy jacket, the collar pulled up about her cheeks. It was a gray day and very cold. The weather matched her mood as the bitter fingers of the wind strafed her face. It had been a few days since she had told Blair the truth and she had not heard from her since. She was very upset, to say the least. She thought a visit to the place where her friends were making an artistic, albeit ill-advised, stand might pick up her spirits. Just seeing them, Tootie and Natalie, being creative and filled with energy together, might make her feel better, she thought. She was surprised to find the front door open. _What the hell? Anyone could walk in here!_ She made her way down to the stage. She was anxious to see the arrangements they had made for their play.

"Tootie!" she called out. There was no answer. _What the hell?_ She sat down at the piano on the side of the stage. "Nat?" There was no answer.

She blew on her hands to warm them up, then rubbed them together. It had been a long time since she had played the piano. She started with an old standard: "Someone to Watch Over Me," by Gershwin.

" _I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood,"_ she sang, _"I know I could, always be good… To one who'll watch over me."_

" _Although she may not be the girl some men think of as pretty…"_ a voice joined her in harmony. " _To my heart she carries the key…"_

It was a tender voice… like an echo. Beautiful, but distant. "Who's there?" Jo called out.

An enchanting version of the song began to play out on an electronic keyboard: captivating in its haunting take on the old standard: by turns hopeful, then dark. Only one person, Jo knew, could be so musically expressive.

"Show yourself, Valeria!" she demanded.

Valeria startled Jo by suddenly appearing behind her. She placed her electronic keyboard on top of the piano and scooted her over on the bench.

"Keep playing, Jo. We will make this beautiful," she instructed as she began playing along with Jo on the piano.

" _Won't you tell her please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh, how I need… someone to watch over me."_

It was amazing how Valeria could put contrasting chords on a song, changing it into something different and all the while still managing to sing in harmony with Jo.

"You made that beautiful," Jo shook her head.

" _We_ did," Valeria affirmed.

"Well," Jo began to play the song on the piano again. "I guess she's yours now."

"You cannot mean Blair," Valeria joined her on the piano. "She _is_ a girl men think of as pretty. Not like the song says. I am right?"

" _And to my heart, she carries the key,"_ Jo sang. "But, I've lost her. I lied to her and now she's gone. She's all yours, V."

Valeria continued to compliment Jo's playing with her own.

"And you think I want your untidy leftovers?"

"What?" Jo turned to her.

"I am sorry. I may have that one wrong," Valeria apologized. "I meant, um…"

"Sloppy seconds?"

"Yes! That is it!" Valeria ripped off a congratulatory riff on the piano.

"Hey! Blair is no one's sloppy seconds!" Jo stopped playing as she eyed her furiously.

"Exactly!" Valeria nudged her as she began playing again. _"To your heart she carries the key,"_ she sang beautifully.

"What have I done?" Jo pounded the keys.

"Keep playing, Jo. We will work this out. Music is a great healer," Valeria encouraged.

"She won't even return my calls," Jo shook her head.

"Did I tell you what I thought of Blair when I first saw her?" Valerie asked as she nudged her to continue playing.

"No," Jo acknowledged.

"I saw this beautiful woman sitting in my audience. Not rushing the stage like the others. Just sitting. I thought: _She is a vision from heaven! But, one that does not worship me!"_

"Must've been hard for you," Jo smirked.

"It was fascinating. I _had_ to meet her. What could stop a woman like that from desiring me?"

Jo looked at her ponderously. "You really do live in another world, huh, V?"

"You must understand how many people throw themselves at me from both sexes," she nodded nonchalantly. "It is a burden of my profession. Yet, Blair did not. I had to find out why."

"And?" Jo asked.

"It took awhile to find out. It was not until I met you that I truly understood."

"And, meanwhile, you hit on her like crazy," Jo shook her head.

"I will not lie to you. I did. She is a very attractive woman. But, once I met you, all things fell into place. You are incredible. Did I tell you what I thought of you when I first met you?"

"No," Jo shook her head and couldn't help but smile.

"That day, when you first opened the door to me? You took my breath away. You probably thought I was being arrogant. Most people have this impression about me."

"You think?" Jo's voice was ironic.

"I am serious, Jo. I could immediately sense your power. I knew then, that I would never have Blair."

"Seriously?"

"And when I saw you two together? You become an entity, something beautiful that all can see."

"An entity?"

"You glow around each other. Soulmates, Jo. And I refuse to compete with a soulmate."

"Very romantic, I'm sure," Jo played a dark note on the piano. "Still didn't stop you from hitting on both of us."

"I cannot be blamed for trying," Valeria played a comical series of notes. "It is my nature, after all. And I have no problem with making love to both of you! I just would never come _between_ you: unless it was in bed with both of your consent. I am _not_ a monster, Jo!"

Jo shook her head and smiled. "Whoever would have thought you'd turn out to be a good person? In your own way…"

"Only those who know me," Valeria whispered conspiratorially. "It will be our secret."

"Hey, V!" Theresa ran down the theater aisle. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Valerie launched into a very dramatic riff on the piano.

"And you have found me, Theresa!" she called out. "What is it I can do for you?"

"You said you'd take me to that private club tonight with lots of celebrities and such. I've never seen anything like that!"

"I _have_ promised you this," Valeria nodded.

"Meanwhile, Jo," Theresa continued. "I'm totally going to be there for your action against the Dark Tower on Saturday!"

"I'm telling everyone I know to stay away, Theresa. It could get ugly. There are other things you could do."

"Yeah, but no one ever tells me what those _other_ things are," she complained. "So, I want to participate, like you and Blair."

"How _is_ Blair?" Jo asked her roommate.

"She's pretty cut-up by what she perceives you did to her. But, we made a list. I think she's going to forgive you!"

"You made a list?"

"Yeah, you know, pro's and con's. She really loves you, Jo! She just needs some space for a while."

"Good to know," Jo shook her head and turned to the piano again. "Meanwhile, _do not_ show up on Saturday."

"I think that is her business, Jo," Valeria interjected. "Am I right, Theresa?"

"I just want to be part of the resistance," Theresa affirmed.

"There you go," V shrugged as she locked arms with Theresa and they exited the theater.

"There you go," Jo started to play again. "And here I sit. All by myself. I deserve this."


	19. Everyway You Look at This, You Lose

_Trump stood before Congress. There were only Republicans as the Democratic Party had been declared unconstitutional and all districts that elected them un-American. He introduced a man with vacant eyes. He looked as if every ounce of humanity had been tortured out of him: nothing left but a hollowed-out shell of what was once a man. He stood at the lectern and began to confess to crimes against the Trump Government. He stated that he was willing to die for his crimes, but that there were others with him and that they should be executed, too. He started to name names. As each name was called out, Russian security guards escorted the member from Congress. There was mass panic as members began to call out their loyalty to Trump in loud voices. As the last of the members were escorted out, a huge wave of relief rolled over the chamber for the those remaining. It was short-lived. Trump introduced the CEO of Smith & Wesson. Guns were passed to the members still in Congress. The order came: shoot the members who were escorted out! Some members were uncomfortable with the command, but most, realizing it was their only way to survive and that it was established constitutional by the Second Amendment which, at this point, read: "It's Okay to Shoot Anyone You Want at Any Time. Our Thoughts and Prayers Are with You!" carried out the order._

"No!" Jo woke up in a cold sweat! "What the fuck?"

She shook her head and grabbed for her water on the nightstand. She was feeling very anxious about the "action" the next day. She just had a bad feeling about it. Plus, she didn't have Blair to bounce ideas off of. She was alone again. It was the worst.

"What am I doing?" she questioned herself as she laid back into the pillows of her bed. She grabbed one and held it tight. "What am I doing, Blair?"

* * *

"So, obviously, the faces of Salacious Showers cannot be seen today," Jo informed.

"Jo! I am so tired of being in the shadows!" Boots argued. "I wish to add my voice to the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free!"

"Which you do every night when you work here!" Jo was adamant. "The faces known here: me, you, George; stay here! We can't afford to be photographed at the action today and that's final! You should've thought about the masses yearning to breathe free before you went on stage with your little tap-dance act!"

"True that," Jeff mumbled under his breath.

Tootie stomped on his foot.

"Ow! What was that about?" he complained. "I'm just saying if she's worried about the poor and huddled masses she shouldn't ought to be doing that tap dance shit in the first place! Oh, no offense, Boots. I just don't get white people entertainment from time to time."

"I don't think it exactly qualifies as white people entertainment anymore," Jo threw in.

"I'm beginning to feel completely disrespected!" Boots huffed.

"Your act is completely great for a huge part of our crowd," George interjected. "But, you've also hosted here, Boots. People know you. So, like Jo said, you're out today."

"I still don't think this is fair," Boots reiterated. "At some point, we all need to stand up and be counted. I'm sick of living in the shadows!"

"And you think I like it?" Jo barked at her. "Listen, Boots, we do great work here and it can only continue if we remain undercover, got it?"

"I've got it, but I don't have to like it!" Boots crossed her arms over her chest.

They were gathered upon the dance floor of Salacious Showers: all those of Jo's crew who could go to the action at the Dark Tower, and all those who couldn't.

"No one who has been arrested is going today, either," Jo insisted as she eyed Tootie, Natalie and Rachel.

"I concur," Rachel nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good with that," Natalie agreed as she nudged Tootie.

"Yeah, okay," Tootie stated resignedly.

"Paulie's in charge today," Jo placed her hand on her cousin's shoulder. "He's got people coming in from all five boroughs. Paulie?"

"Does everyone have their phone?" he held up his burner.

Those going to the action held up their burners in response.

"Okay, then. Listen, at the first sign of violence from Trump's forces, we get people out. I've coordinated with each group coming today, but they will count on us for leadership. By now, all of you should be familiar with my instructions. We evacuate people from 55th to 59th Street and up and down 5th Avenue. We have safe havens along all those streets. You already have this information. We need to direct people there. And we, of course, are not starting any violence or meeting fire power with fire power."

There was a considerable loud groan from the back of the room as George's guys looked at their weapons.

"Sorry, guys!" George called out.

"So, we're expecting violence today?" Arnold questioned loudly. "Cause, I'm ready!"

"We are not expecting violence," Paulie clarified. "I'm just preparing you for all the possibilities. Our goal is to shut down all business in the Dark Tower as well as the White House and Mar-a-Lago for a day. That's it… for one day."

"Ridiculous," Jo mumbled under her breath.

"It is important that the government knows we haven't given up," Paulie continued as his voice rose. "But, it's more important that the people of this country know that _we_ , the Resistance, haven't given up! That there is still hope out there! That there are people to rally around! That what our Founding Fathers established has not been given over to fascism! That America still matters! That the ideals of America, including liberty and justice for all, have not vanished! This is our country! That is our goal today: to show that resistance is not futile! Our country is still alive! The dream of America lives!"

A loud cheer went up as Paulie finished his rallying speech. Jo shook her head and smiled at her cousin ironically.

"Good luck today, Cous," she gave him a warm hug.

"Yeah," he kissed her head. "Thanks, Jo."

Theresa checked her burner phone at the back of the room, next to the strange guys in black who… what? Where did they go? That was weird.

"Theresa!" she heard her name called out. Jo approached her. "What are you doing here?"

"Participating in the resistance!" she smiled back at Jo. "I told you I would be here. Remember?"

Jo didn't remember. "Aw, how 'bout just hanging out with me, instead?" she offered.

"No way, Jo," she held up the phone Paulie had given her. "I'm with your cousin today. I'm finally getting into the action, just like you and Blair."

"Um, about Blair," Jo couldn't help herself. "How is she doing?"

"She's been out at her Mom's. Just chilling. I think she was coming back to the penthouse today. There was some business she wanted to take of for her company. Meetings downtown."

"Oh. Okay then," Jo bit her lip.

"I know she's going to call you soon, Jo. Don't worry," Theresa offered.

"Yeah. Thanks. I wasn't worried," Jo lied.

"Okay then," Theresa shrugged before running after Paulie and out the door.

* * *

Blair was pissed. She had meetings on 5th Avenue and there was going to be a goddamn protest rally blocking her way? It was hard enough managing her Father's business in the Trump era. And, even though she really appreciated the sentiment of the rally, she resented the timing. The Warner Building was on 5th Avenue, as well. She was hoping the protest wouldn't spill over to where she had to be. She had set up these meetings weeks ago, long before Jo had informed her of the anti-Trump rally.

Jo. Still a sore point. She just had not been able to get past the fact that she had withheld information from her. Trust was everything! She was totally over the assignment part. Yeah, it probably was a good decision to put her in close with the Trumps. Really, who else could do it, but her? But, not telling her that she had been the one who made the call? That was a betrayal on Jo's part. She had thought they were over that and the revelation was like a slap in the face.

Something occurred to her: Jo _had_ to try and control things. It was her nature. It was how she dealt with things. She always thought she knew best and was doing the best for others by trying to handle everything herself. It was how she was wired. It was her way of doing right by others.

It was the same thing that had happened with Rick. Jo didn't tell her what was going on and it had caused all kind of problems! She was trying to control the situation. She thought she knew best and tried to manage things without telling those closest to her. She hid information from her and the result was catastrophic for their relationship. Had she learned nothing? She should've told her in the hospital, when they revealed to each other that they were on the same side. But, she _was_ under the influence of drugs at the time, so she could forgive that. But after they made love in Miami? She should've straight-up told her that she was the one who had assigned her the role she was playing.

How would she have reacted? She didn't know. All she knew was that by Jo withholding this information while their relationship progressed again, she had damaged a sacred trust. She felt betrayed and she just couldn't get over it.

She missed Jo like hell. It was like her whole body hurt on a level she couldn't explain. But, that just made everything worse. The person she loved the most in the whole world, was also the woman who had hurt her the most. She was battling with herself and she didn't know how she'd resolve it. But, she missed Jo every day. There was nothing within her that could turn off her feelings. She loved her with every fiber of her being. Was she sick? Did she not respect herself enough to walk away? Where was her anger in the middle of the night when she reached out to an empty space beside her in bed? There was no way around it: she missed her.

She had ample opportunity to move on, she reflected. Valeria was going on tour soon. She could hop on that band wagon and just disappear. Although V had made it clear that she did not want to come between her and Jo, it wouldn't take long to change her mind, Blair figured. They had a definite sexual connection and what a fantastic love get-away that would be! On tour with the next big thing in popular music, being present at each show as she watched others fight for her attention, marveling at her talent, the whole time knowing she would be making love to her every night… sweet revenge. _I should just do it!_ she thought.

But, that would just be using Valeria, she corrected herself. _Why, in the hell, do I have to be so damn moral? Thank you so much, Mrs. Garrett!_ She couldn't use another person like that, no matter how attractive and fantastic she was. _Maybe I could grow to love V like I love Jo?_ That was a thought! After all, she certainly didn't always love Jo this way, did she? She had hated Jo at first, just like she had hated Valeria. But there was an undeniable attraction from the get-go for both of them. Maybe it _was_ the same. Maybe she _could_ move on. There was a long pause in her internal dialogue as she reflected upon this. _Could she?_ She honestly didn't know. Aaargh! This was too much! She had a meeting today!

"I can't think about this now," she finished her lipstick in the vanity mirror. "I'll think about it tomorrow."

* * *

"I notice Blair wasn't here today," Tootie mentioned to Natalie as they retreated to her room.

"You can't have expected her to be," Nat gave her a disbelieving look. "Blair's deep undercover."

"I think something is up there, Nat," Tootie continued. "You saw how Jo sought out Blair's roommate today."

"I don't find that unusual," Natalie shrugged. "What are you getting at?"

"I heard them arguing in Jo's rooms the other day."

"Oh?" Nat's eyes went wide. "As you just happened to be passing by and dropped something outside the door?" she finished sarcastically.

"Doesn't matter," Tootie shrugged. "Jo's too full of herself. Haven't you noticed? She thinks she's all that. She's too bossy."

"First I've heard," Natalie nodded. "Besides, as far as I know, she _is_ the boss around here. Just what is it you have against Jo, anyway?"

"Why does she keep burner phones in her bathroom?"

"You've been spying in her bathroom?" Nat blurted out loudly as she gave her an incredulous glare.

"I just think Jo hasn't been completely honest and I think that has come between her and Blair."

"You think? Or you were listening at the door?"

"Look, it used to be okay that she bossed us around when we were kids, but it's not okay now. She can be a bully and I think she bullied Blair into a position that was humiliating for her. We all repudiate Blair, cut her off. Why?"

"The demented cuckoo clock thing?" Nat shrugged.

"Right! Blair following orders. From whom?"

"Yu'all got to be kidding me," Jeff interrupted as he sat down and began fiddling with his phone. "Man, if you didn't have Jo and Blair to talk about, I don't even know if you two could communicate at all. Let it go!"

"Hey! We've got a lot of other things to talk about," Tootie defended herself and her best friend. "Nat's got her podcast going on. We're putting a play together."

"That's another thing I agree with Jo about," Jeff looked up from his phone and glared at her. "That play thing is too dangerous."

"Oh, it is not, Jeff."

"Look, Babe, you're a well-respected actress already. You've made your way in the world. You don't need this."

"But, I _do_ need it, Sweetheart! I'm going stir crazy around here, doing nothing. I'm an artist!"

"There's plenty of things you could be doing behind the scenes to help Jo out around here. It may not be art, but we're in a fight for our lives, in case you haven't noticed, and everybody's got to pitch in."

"My play _is_ pitching in!"

He put his phone down and gazed at her. "I'm worried about you, Honey. Don't you get that? I just don't want anything bad happening to you."

"Aw, that's so sweet, Jeff," she gave him a kiss.

"Yeah, well, I know you ain't gonna' listen to me, but I had to say it anyway," he returned his attention back to his phone. "And if you two know what's good for you, you'll stay out of Blair and Jo's business."

"I have to agree, Tootie," Nat shook her head. "It's best not to speculate when it comes to Jo and Blair."

"Yeah, okay, but here's the thing: we all disowned Blair. I still want to know who set her up like that. Don't you, Nat? It feels bad to me. I need to know what happened, everything, out in the open. I hurt a friend and so did you."

"I hardly think she was set up, Tootie. Blair knew we'd all disown her when she took on the assignment. She had to be willing to accept that for the good of the cause. And as far as her being bullied by Jo? Ha!" Natalie let out a loud guffaw. "You remember them back in high school and college… Blair gave as good as she got. Jo never got the better of her."

"Must've been some high-powered entertainment," Jeff shook his head.

"It _was_ entertaining," Tootie agreed.

"I always found it fascinating watching those two go at it," Natalie mused. "How did we not ever figure out what was going on?"

"Cause gay wasn't on our radar," Tootie shrugged.

"Sure it was. We knew gay people back in the day, didn't we?"

"I was in the theatre program," Tootie stated haughtily. "Of course, I never met any gay people!"

They both laughed out loud as Jeff shook his head.

"I guess gay just wasn't on our radar as far as _they_ were concerned," Nat conjectured. "They did both date boys, after all. Acted all boy-crazy."

" _Acted_ is the operable word there. Cause looking back on it, the whole thing was an act."

"Was it?" Natalie lifted an eyebrow. "They may have just been avoiding the truth. Lying to themselves. I mean, if you think about how stubborn they both are, it must've been tough for one of them to finally admit to the other how they felt."

"Yeah, I wonder how that happened?" Tootie pondered as Jeff shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"What?" she nudged him.

"Ain't none of your business, is what."

"We should go talk to Jo," Tootie nodded.

"And ask her what?" Natalie eyes became wide. "How she and Blair got together?"

"No, silly. Although I would love to know that, wouldn't you?"

"Duh," Natalie affirmed.

"I just know something's up again and she's not talking to us about it."

"That's because it's, once again, none of your business," Jeff pointed out. "Just leave Jo alone. She's got enough on her mind without you buttin' into her private affairs."

"We used to be best friends, Jeff, until she and Blair started cutting us out. I just don't want to let that happen again."

"Hey," Jeff returned to his phone. "It's your funeral."

* * *

Blair rode the executive elevator up to her father's old office. She paused as she opened the door. She had been avoiding this moment. She had deliberately stayed away from this place since her return to New York, preferring to conduct business online and through video conferences. She just couldn't face the reality of what Trump and Putin had wrought. It was personal here. There were so many memories. She crossed over to the desk and ran her hand over the leather of his chair.

"Daddy," she whispered. "I'm going to make this right. I promise."

"Oh, Ms. Warner, I didn't realize you were here!" her father's executive secretary apologized as she entered the office. She was an attractive woman in her early forties with dark hair pulled back into a sensible bun and glasses perched upon her nose. She wore a stylish business suit, accentuated by high heels and a colorful scarf about her neck.

"Yeah. I kind of snuck in, Alice. Sorry."

"Is there anything I can get you? Is there anything you need?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Meeting's in a half hour," Alice reminded.

"Yep," Blair twirled the chair around.

"Alright then," the secretary turned on her heels to leave.

"Oh, um, Alice?"

"Yes, Ms. Warner?"

"Blair, please. You always called me Blair before."

"Yes. But, you're the boss now."

"Acting CEO," Blair corrected. "Only until Daddy returns. Mr. Stein has been doing a great job running things here in my father's absence. No one needs to think of me as the boss."

"I think it may help them to think of you so," Alice pointed out.

"Huh," Blair sighed. "Anyway, I want to thank you for keeping my father's office so neat and clean. It's like he's just popped out for a sandwich or something."

"He'll be back. We can't stop believing."

"That's what I'm fighting for," Blair stroked the chair.

"You might as well sit down. It's your chair until he returns."

"From the sandwich shop?"

"Exactly," Alice gave her a grin. She stopped before she reached the door and turned back around to see her boss's daughter siting in his chair.

"It's good to have you back, Blair," her face broke into a sad smile. "You've been missed."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Blair returned the smile as she rose from the chair with her arms extended. "C'mere! Give me a hug!"

Alice moved quickly across the room to hug her. They both began to cry.

"Well, this is a first," Alice finally managed.

"What?" Blair asked.

"I've never hugged the boss before."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry," Blair released her. "It _is_ inappropriate, I guess."

"Blair," Alice took off her glasses and wiped them with her scarf. "Under the circumstances, it's completely appropriate."

"Thanks again, Alice," Blair took her seat behind the executive desk.

She opened her briefcase and removed her laptop. "You there, Cali?"

" _Always!"_ Cali replied brightly.

"So, you've been over the budget figures, market analysis and sales projections?"

" _I have. I concur with your evaluation."_

"I feel guilty pulling you away from your work with the underground to help me with Warner business."

" _It's no problem at all, Blair. As you know, I can work on more than one thing at a time. At this very moment, I'm helping Jo decipher an algorithm."_

"Jo, huh?"

" _Yes. You haven't been over for a few days. You must miss her."_

"I do miss her," Blair sighed. "But, I'm not ready to see her, yet."

" _Uh oh, did you two have another fight?"_

"What you mean _another_ fight?"

" _Oh! I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't offend you. I've just observed that you seem to have a contentious relationship from time to time. But, what do I know? Am still learning about human interactions."_

"I'm not offended, Cali. I guess you're right, anyway."

" _Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I am talking to her right now."_

"Does she know you're talking to me, too?"

" _No. Do you want me to tell her?"_

"No!"

" _Oops. Too late. I'm sorry, it just came up."_

"Oh my God, she's asking you about me?"

" _You became a subject of our conversation. It was the info from your Russian friend who led us to what we're investigating."_

"He's not my friend, alright? You told her you were talking to me?"

" _I didn't mean to, Blair. It's just that you were both talking about the other at the same time. I guess I panicked."_

"Wait," Blair gave the computer a quizzical look. "You can panic?"

" _I sometimes find human emotion confusing. I guess I got my signals crossed."_

"Yeah, well, you can tell her to quit asking about me."

" _Um, she's saying something similar."_

"Oh! She is, is she?" Blair fumed. "You can tell her for me…"

" _Maybe I should just set up a video chat between you two,"_ Cali offered.

"No!" Blair screamed at the computer screen. "I have to stay composed for my meeting!"

" _I can't keep relaying messages,"_ Cali complained. _"It makes me uncomfortable."_

"I've got to get to get going. I'll talk to you later, Cali."

" _Oh, um, okay."_

Blair closed the lid to the laptop and dropped it into her briefcase.

* * *

So, one place just leads us to another," Jo complained. "It's like a fucking maze."

" _Perhaps it would help to clarify our goals,"_ Cali suggested.

"I want to destroy all these data mining algorithms with a virus."

" _It would have to be highly specific, to target just those we want to destroy,"_ Cali responded.

"But not impossible?"

" _I can go in and wipe all the information from these computers."_

"What's the risk?"

" _If I'm caught or leave a trace back to me, I could be altered or destroyed."_

"I'm not willing to take that chance."

" _Ah, thanks, Jo. I appreciate that."_

"We need to plant a really insidious virus," Jo conjectured. "One that is triggered by something they do but cannot be traced back to us."

" _Agreed."_

"I really want to fuck them up."

" _Agreed."_

"Blair's Russian friend really helped us out here," Jo mentioned.

" _He did."_

"Have you been talking to Blair?"

" _I've been helping her with her business."_

"Her business… I almost forgot about that with everything else that's going on. She never burdens me with it."

" _That's very considerate,"_ Cali said.

"So, what are you helping her with?"

" _She has a meeting this afternoon with the Warner Board of Directors. I've just been checking numbers for her. She had it all covered, herself, really. Just wanted my opinion for reassurance."_

"Yeah, Blair's pretty sharp. Not much gets by her. Did you talk to her today?"

" _I'm talking to her right now."_

"What?"

" _As you know, I can work on more than one thing at a time."_

"But, you're talking to both of us at once?"

" _Oops, she didn't like that I told you we were talking. I think I've made a mistake."_

"Whadda' ya mean she didn't like it that you told me you were talking to her?"

" _I don't know, Jo. I'm confused."_

"Was she asking about me?"

" _Not exactly. She thinks you were asking about her."_

"You told her that?" Jo was upset.

" _No. Not exactly,"_ Cali tried to defend herself. _"I just mentioned that she came up in conversation."_

"Well, you can tell her I wasn't asking about her!"

" _That's good. She informs me that she doesn't want you asking about her."_

"Oh my God! What's her damage? You can tell her for me…"

" _Maybe I should just set up a video chat between you two,"_ Cali offered.

"No!" Jo screamed at the computer screen. "I can't talk to her while I'm angry! That would just make everything worse!"

" _I can't keep relaying messages,"_ Cali complained. _"It makes me uncomfortable."_

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Jo barked.

"It's us!" Natalie and Tootie said in unison.

"Door's open. Come on in," Jo called out. "I need a break. We'll get back to this later, Cali."

" _Oh, um, okay."_

Jo closed the lid of the laptop.

"What's up you guys?" she greeted her friends.

"We're not interrupting you, are we, Jo?" Nat questioned.

"Nah, I needed a break anyway. Have a seat."

"We bought a six-pack," Tootie offered.

"Ah! You read my mind!" Jo popped open a beer and plopped down beside them on the sofa.

"Tough day?" Nat asked.

"Yeah. I'm just really perplexed by this cyber espionage stuff. I've been working on it since everyone left this morning."

"Are you worried about the action today?" Tootie asked.

"Yeah. I am. I just hope nothing goes wrong. Seems like a lot of risk for a highly symbolic gesture."

"I think symbolic gestures can be important," Nat added.

"I haven't seen Blair around this week. Is she coming over today?" Tootie broached the subject.

"Nope."

"Why not?" Tootie continued.

"It's Saturday. She never comes over on Saturday. Why are you asking about Blair?"

"Like I said, I haven't seen her around lately," Tootie stated nonchalantly.

"Out with it, Tootie," Jo demanded.

"Tootie thinks you and Blair had another fight," Natalie revealed anxiously.

Jo took a slow sip off her beer. She was silent.

"I'm sorry, Jo," Nat apologized. "It's none of our business."

"We just don't want you and Blair cutting us out again, Jo. We're your friends. You can talk to us," Tootie spoke nervously.

"Sometimes it helps to talk," Natalie shrugged.

Jo was still silent. She was biting her lower lip, like she was fighting some internal battle.

"C'mon, Nat," Tootie stood to leave. "She's not going to talk to us."

"No," Jo suddenly spoke up. "It's okay. Sit down. You're right."

"Right about what? That it's none of our business or that it helps to talk about things or that you had a fight with Blair?" Natalie asked.

"All of the above," Jo shook her head.

"I knew it!" Tootie called out.

"I did have a fight with Blair and it _is_ none of your business but, I guess I wouldn't mind talking about it."

"So, what happened, Jo?" Natalie sat beside her.

"I kept a secret from her."

"You cheated on her?" Tootie asked excitedly.

Jo gave her a menacing glare. "I _did not_ cheat on her!"

"Shush, Tootie," Nat swatted her. "Let Jo tell her story."

"When this whole thing got started, we needed someone to cozy up to the Trumps and their ilk. I knew what had happened to Blair's father, so I suggested that she might be open to it and that she was perfect for the job. I kinda recommended her for it. When I found out how horrible it was, I really regretted it. But, after we got back together, I just couldn't find the courage to tell her… until now."

"Ooh, I know that really pissed Blair off," Tootie shook her head.

"It did," Jo sighed. "At first she was mad because she thought it meant I didn't respect her. Which wasn't the case at all."

"It is a pretty shitty assignment," Nat nodded.

"I know that _now!_ " Jo was emphatic. "I never would have put her in that position if I knew how vile and perverse those people really are. But, I didn't know back then. No one did. But, what I exposed her to, that's something I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life. God, I regret it."

"But, you didn't know, like you said," Tootie mentioned. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Jo was defensive.

"Unless you gave her the assignment as revenge for your breakup?"

"Actually, no," Jo was irritated by the question. "Just the opposite. Deep down, I think I believed that maybe it could bring us back together, somehow… being on the same side of the fight and all. I really didn't think it would be so bad. You have to believe me."

"She must've felt like a tool when you told her," Tootie shook her head.

"That's definitely part of it," Jo admitted.

"So that's why she's so mad?" Nat asked.

"You know what? I don't think that's the reason. It's that I betrayed a trust. I wasn't completely honest. That's what broke us up the first time. That's what really hurt her."

"So, what happened the first time?" Tootie asked.

" _That_ , I'm not going to talk about," Jo asserted tersely.

"You cheated on her?" Natalie nodded.

Jo rolled her eyes before giving Nat a scathing frown. "I have _never_ cheated on Blair!"

"Yeah, Nat," Tootie swatted her. "Let Jo tell her story."

"That's all there is to tell," Jo sighed and sank back into the couch. "She won't talk to me."

"Have you tried texting her or calling her?" Nat asked.

"Only every day," Jo sipped her beer. "She won't return my texts or calls."

"She'll get over it," Tootie tried to comfort as she patted her arm. "She probably just needs time."

"I don't know. She's pretty mad. Trust is _so_ important to her."

"But she loves you, Jo," Nat assured. "You two have always loved each other."

"I sure do miss her. I hate it when she's mad at me. I mean, she's mad at me a lot, but this is different. This is her being mad at me when we're apart, ya know? It just feels lonely."

"You still have us," Nat threw her arm around her. "We love you. I mean, not like Blair, but, um, you know what I mean."

"I do," Jo chuckled. "Thanks, guys. I love you, too. It does feel better to talk about it."

"Do you want us to talk to Blair?" Tootie asked.

"No," Jo shook her head. "I mean, I want you guys to still talk to her. She's been pretty isolated since all this mess got started. But just not about us, okay? I mean, don't try to fix this. I don't think it would help. She'd just get her back up. She's so stubborn."

" _She's_ stubborn?" Nat raised an eyebrow.

"Okay. Okay," Jo smirked.

"So, what do you guys want to do this afternoon?" Tootie asked.

"Ooh, we should turn on the computer. Watch the live feed from downtown," Nat suggested.

"I'm not sure I want to watch," Jo cringed. "I just want them all to come back safe."

"C'mon, Jo," Nat cajoled. "You've got to be a little curious. Let's turn on the computer."

"I've had it with computers today. Can we just watch on TV?"

"Good enough," Nat picked up the remote and pressed the power button.

* * *

" _This is an unlawful assembly! Disperse! Now!"_ an authoritative voice crackled over the loudspeaker from the Dark Tower.

"Congress shall make no law respecting the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances," Paulie used his bullhorn to respond and rally his troops.

" _This is an unlawful assembly! Disperse! Now!"_ the authoritative voice repeated over the loud speaker.

"The people… united… will never be defeated!" Paulie held his fist in the air as the crowd began to chant: _"The people… united… will never be defeated!"_

" _This is an unlawful assembly! Disperse! Now! There will be no further warnings!"_

" _The people… united… will never be defeated!"_ came the loud choral response.

There was movement behind the barbed wire protecting the tower. Suddenly, armed vehicles burst through. There was a gasp from the crowd. Paulie grabbed his burner phone and started barking orders: "Start moving people out. Now!"

He picked up his bullhorn: "People, we've made our point! Time to disperse peacefully! Please move away in an orderly manner."

"The hell we will!" a young man called out as he hurled a brick at one of the vehicles. Automatic weapon fire burst through the air as he was cut down. Most in the crowd panicked and began to run. Others grabbed whatever they could and started hurling it at the vehicles. More gunfire ensued as bodies began to litter the street and blood ran into the gutters.

"Damn!" Paulie called out as he ran towards the wounded. "Execute plan B-Alpha," he ordered breathlessly into his phone.

Theresa heard the order. She stood bravely in the street and began waving her arm as she directed people up 5th Avenue and onto 57th Street. She paused momentarily as something caught her eye. Was that Blair's car?

* * *

"Damn it!" Jo jumped up as she watched the chaos unfold on television. "This was exactly what I was afraid of!"

"Oh my God!" Tootie covered her mouth with her hand.

"This is terrible!" Natalie's mouth fell open.

Jo walked over to her bookshelf and pulled out her rosary. She kissed it and crossed herself. "Please, bring my family and loved one's home safe," she whispered her prayer so no one could hear.

"Are you seeing this?" George burst in the room.

Jo just shook her head.

"They're shooting at them!" George called out desperately.

"I see it," Jo said sadly. "Paulie's right in the middle of that."

"As our many of our friends," Nat's mouth was still agape.

"Blair's down there, too," Jo added in a barely audible voice.

"What?" all three of them turned to her at once.

"Meeting on 5th Avenue. Just a couple blocks away."

Her bad feeling about the whole situation had been right. Blair needed her. She felt this on an gut level… one she couldn't explain.

* * *

"Oh my God, Danny!" Blair called to her driver. "What is going on down there?"

"It's the protest today," Danny informed. "I'm going to take an alternate route."

"No way! I heard gunfire!"

"Blair, there is no good that can come from us getting involved. Whatever's happening is beyond our control."

"The hell there isn't!" Blair pulled her pistol from her purse.

"Your mother pays me to protect you, not to drive you into danger," Danny was insistent.

"Drive up the street, Danny. I have to know what's happening!"

"Drive into gunfire? I don't think so!"

"Fine then!" she began to open the car door. "I'll go by myself!"

"Stop," he relented. "If you have to go, you're not going without me."

He proceeded up 5th Avenue at a slow pace, until he could drive no further because of the waves of panicked people running towards them.

"That's Theresa," Blair grabbed his shoulder. She jumped out of the car and ran towards her roommate. Danny ran after her.

"Theresa!" she called out.

"Hey, Blair!" Theresa replied excitedly. Her eyes registered confusion as the sound of gunfire rang out again. She looked down to her chest as blood flowed profusely. As she looked back up to Blair, a sweet smile crossed her lips. She began to collapse. Blair caught her before she hit the ground.

"I did it, Blair," she gasped. "I made a difference."

"You did," Blair rocked her in her arms, stroking her hair. "You made a huge difference!"

"Just like you," Theresa breathed her last. Blair held her tight as Danny crouched over her in a protective manner with his gun drawn.

"Wake up, Theresa!" Blair breathed into her mouth. She covered her wound with her hand to staunch the bleeding. "Wake up!"

"She's gone, Blair!" Danny shouted. "We have to get out of here!"

" _Do you know that there's still a chance for you,_ _c_ _ause there's a spark in you,"_ Blair sang softly to her as she rocked her body. " _Cause baby you're a firework_ _. C_ _ome on show 'em what you're worth._ _Make 'em go: oh, oh, oh! as you shoot across the sky-y-y._ _Boom, boom, boom_ _,_ _even brighter than the moon, moon, moon,"_ her voice drifted off as she kissed her forehead.

It was a gradual feeling. It began at her center and vibrated slowly throughout her body. Like a wave that breaks upon the shore and spreads across the beach, then withdraws with a quavering rhythm, only to return again with greater force… the oppressive swell of unimaginable horror, unbearable sorrow. Her whole body shook as tears streamed down her face. She pulled Theresa close to her as she looked up to the sky. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Blair, we've got to go!" Danny pressed.

"Oh my God! Blair! What are you doing here?" Paulie came upon them.

At long last, her voice came. It was not an utterance that neither Danny nor Paulie had ever expected to hear from her. It was unbridled grief. It was the sound of unfathomable pain. She looked to the gray clouds above her with cheeks stained red with her friend's blood. Her call was throaty, animal-like as it echoed off the city's concrete canyon walls: "NOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

It was like a punch hit her in the stomach. Her chest tightened. Something was wrong. It was not a surprise to Jo when she received a text from Blair: _"At Lenox Hill Hospital Emergency. Theresa shot. Need you."_

She turned to Natalie and Tootie: "I've got to go. Blair needs me."

"Go! Go!" they urged.

She ran into the bedroom and grabbed her jacket and motorcycle keys when a burner phone went off in her bathroom. She froze as a stark reality set in: choose the cause or choose Blair. There was no choice as she bolted for the door tossing the phone to Tootie.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Tootie stared at the phone as if it might explode.

"Answer it! Take a message… I dunno'," Jo called over her shoulder as she bolted out the door.

Tootie nervously held the phone to her ear. "Um, hello?"

She suddenly grabbed Natalie's arm and squeezed hard as her eyes became saucers.

"Mrs. Garrett?"


	20. Joltin Jo Has Left and Gone Away

The hospital was insane. Blair stood drenched in her roommate's blood. She had managed to convince Danny and Paulie to carry Theresa to her car and drive her to an emergency room. But, they had both been right: Theresa was gone. She had stood in the corridor, outside the trauma room, anyway. Waiting for something… but what? She knew she was dead. Confirmation? A miracle? She didn't know. But she was wrecked by what she had seen. Theresa was following her, trying to be like her… she was responsible for this, wasn't she? Grief and self-recrimination flooded over her in enormous, relentless waves. Where was Jo? She had texted her and beyond that: why couldn't she just _feel_ that she needed her? She glanced down the hospital corridor half expecting to see her. But… no. She sank down against the wall, her head resting upon her knees, and began to cry. It was a hopeless, mournful cry. Her heart was broken. Her body shook.

"Blair?"

"Jo?" she looked up hopefully.

Valeria stood before her.

"No. I am sorry. I am not Jo."

She reached down for her hands and pulled her up. Blair's eyes, stung with bitter tears, met compassionate brown eyes brimming with unshed tears of her own.

"Oh God, V!" she fell into her arms.

They held each other and cried. Blair wrapped her arms around her tight and held onto her as if she was buoy in turbulent waters.

"I am crushed, defeated," Blair whispered. "I failed. I got her killed."

"It was not your fault," Valeria held her tight. "You cannot blame yourself."

"She never would've been involved if not for me."

"She made her own choices. I was proud of her for what she did. Do not disrespect the memory of her!" Valeria was adamant.

"I love you. I want you to know that. You know that, right? I never told her how much I loved her. Now it's too late."

"I love you, too, Blair," their lips met as they exchanged a tender kiss. "I love you so much."

"Oh God, V," Blair collapsed into her arms again, sobbing.

A woman in a business suit approached them.

"I'm sorry to intrude, and I don't mean to appear indelicate, but the young lady had no insurance and there _is_ the matter of the bill."

"The bill?" Valeria glared at her.

Blair retrieved her purse and handed a credit card to the woman. "I'll pay for everything," she sniffled.

"The bill?" V was still incredulous. "She's dead! How can she owe a bill?"

"It's not like they killed her, V."

"But still? She owes them for the bloody sheets? What kind of place is this?" she shook her head.

"It's the United States of America, V. Welcome to it," Blair replied.

* * *

As she jumped on her bike, Jo's cell phone went off. It was Paulie.

"Thank God, you're alright, Paulie!" she blurted as she placed the key in the ignition.

"It's a bloodbath down here, Jo," his voice was distraught. "They're killing people."

"I'm on my way!" Jo turned the ignition as her bike started up with a loud growl.

"Blair needs you," he reported.

"I'm on my way!" she repeated as she placed the phone in her pocket and roared off.

What happened next was either epic bad luck or an ill-begotten stroke of fate. She took 3rd Avenue, to avoid the crush on 5th. As she approached East 57th, an armored vehicle pulled in front of her. Jo skidded her bike to a halt.

" _Disembark!"_ a mechanical command came from the vehicle.

"The hell I will!" Jo gunned her engine and took off the wrong way down the street. She heard glass shattering around her. _"Oh my God! They're shooting at me!"_ The street quickly cleared as people ducked for cover. Jo turned back around just in time to see a car in front of her. This time, when she skidded her bike to a halt, she hit the ground hard. "Damn!" she called out as she felt her leg pinned beneath her.

"Let me help you!" A man with a vaguely Russian accent jumped out of the car and pulled her bike up. Jo struggled to her feet and peered down the street. Two men in military gear with weapons drawn approached her. The man swung an automatic weapon from around his shoulder. "Run!"

Jo hobbled to her bike as he began firing. "Run?"

She hid behind her motorcycle as she rolled it to the sidewalk and took cover behind a car. The shooting stopped almost immediately. _"That poor guy must be dead,"_ Jo thought. She risked peeking out from behind the back fender. There he stood, in the middle of the street, casually smoking a cigarette. He turned and approached her.

"What happened?" Jo called out anxiously as she gazed at the two lifeless bodies on the street. "You killed them?"

"They were bad people. Or, at the very least, extremely misguided. They deserved what they got. They meant to kill you, after all."

"They did at that," Jo removed her helmet.

"You are a woman!" he smiled with some surprise.

"So?"

"A pleasant development," he nodded as he flicked his cigarette and expertly bounced it off a neighboring building.

"Well, thanks for saving my life, I guess," Jo offered. "But, I've got to get going."

She limped over to her bike and picked it up as he watched her with amusement. She struggled to lift her leg over the seat. She turned the ignition. It choked but wouldn't turn over. She tried again… no luck.

"Damn!" she threw her helmet down.

"Your bike is not going anywhere."

"Ya think?" Jo winced as she climbed off. "I've got to get to the hospital. My friend's there."

"My vehicle is likewise useless," he said.

"I'm just going to have to walk then," she began to limp up the street.

"You are in no condition to walk," he pointed out.

"You got another idea?" she snapped at him.

"There is an unused vehicle sitting in the middle of the street."

"You _cannot_ be serious," she eyed him.

"Why not?" he shrugged.

" _I can't believe I'm going to do this,"_ Jo thought. _"But, I've got to get to Blair."_

"Pick up the weapon," he mentioned as he bent over the lifeless body of a Trump Security guard and removed his gun.

"What? Why?"

"You never know…" he gave her a wink. "We might need them."

Jo's stomach turned as she rolled the dead man over and removed his weapon.

"I'm not much good with a gun these days," Jo mentioned as she climbed into the armored vehicle beside him.

"It is a fully automatic weapon. You do not have to be good. Just point, shoot, and whatever's in your way will yield."

"You didn't yield in front of these same weapons," she pointed out.

"Ah, yes," he started the engine and began to drive up the street. "But, I am a good guy with a gun. And we all know…"

"A good guy with a gun stops a bad guy with a gun every time," she finished his sentence.

"You did not believe this?" he questioned.

"No. Anytime I heard that lame saying I just figure it was someone trying to sell two guns."

"Very amusing," he laughed. "Uh-oh…"

"Uh-oh, what?" Jo asked.

"There is another armored vehicle after us," he was looking at the rearview display. "You will have to shoot them."

"What? It's an armored vehicle!"

"Shoot out their tires before they shoot out ours!" he demanded. "You can pop out the top! Perhaps, they do not know what has happened yet, and think we are friendly. There is no time to waste!"

Jo ignored her pain as she crawled through the opening at the top of the vehicle. She managed to pull the weapon up with her and take aim. _I've got to get to Blair!_ She fired and hit both front tires. The vehicle veered wildly and stopped.

"Yeah!" she pumped her fist. "I'm back!"

Her moment of glory was short lived as the occupants of the vehicle behind them jumped out and started firing back.

"Floor it!" she ducked back into the vehicle and yelled to her partner in crime.

"This is funny," he smiled as he took off down 3rd Avenue.

"Not getting the humor here," Jo winced as she returned to the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry. My English, sometimes, is not all it should be. I meant that this is ironic. It reminds me of a time when I was in Miami with this irritating, spoiled blonde woman. She had to shoot out tires, as well, to keep us safe."

Jo eyed him up and down. "Sergei?" she asked curiously.

"Yes! Yes! I am Sergei! How did you know?"

"The irritating, spoiled blonde is my friend at the hospital."

"Blair is your friend?"

"She's my girlfriend, if she'll still have me," Jo sighed.

"You have my condolences," he smirked.

"So, who _are_ you anyway?" Jo gave him the once over.

"Sergei," he shrugged.

"No. I mean, you gave us that flash drive with all that valuable information, you're impervious to bullets… who _are_ you?"

"I do not even know your name," he eyed her back. "Who are _you_?"

"Oh. Sorry. Jo Polniaczek," she extended her hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he shook her hand firmly. "I am curious about you, too."

"Why's that?"

"How did Blair end up with such a tough, beautiful, scrappy girlfriend? You are nothing like her!"

"She's tougher than you know," Jo nodded.

"She _is_ tough," Sergei acknowledged. "But you are not a fancy girl like her."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, I guess. So," Jo drew out slowly. "You have access to all sorts of secret information and you obviously have special ops training and are, apparently, miraculously good at avoiding automatic weapons fire."

"Yes. That is me. There is a problem?"

"And you drink covfefe?" Jo laughed.

"An acquired taste, I have to admit," he smiled. "You are very funny. I like you, Jo."

"Pull over, Sergei," Jo suddenly called out.

"What is it?" he questioned.

"Back up! In that alley back there, I thought I saw my cousin!"

* * *

"I want to see her one last time," Blair informed the hospital executive as she returned her credit card.

"Are you sure, Ms. Warner?" the woman queried.

"Yes."

Blair and Valeria entered the trauma room. Blair slowly pulled back the sheet covering Theresa's face.

"Oh," she sighed as she stroked her cheek. "She looks so peaceful."

Valeria said nothing.

"Even in death, she is beautiful," Blair kissed her cold forehead, her lips. "What did I do to you? Why?" she stroked her hair as tears streamed down her face.

"I regret how I treated her when I first met her," Valeria began to cry. "Such a sweet girl. She became my friend, as well."

"Her family, V," Blair looked up at her. "I have to call her mother."

"That poor little boy," Valeria continued to weep. "What will he do without his sister?"

"I will take care of her family," Blair stated. "They will never want for a thing."

"But, you cannot replace a sister, a daughter," V stroked Theresa's cheek.

"No. You can't."

"I will offer my family," Valeria gently moved a strand of Theresa's hair. "My family will become her family."

"Blair," Danny came through the door. "The violence is moving this way. We have to get out of here."

"Just another moment, Danny," she stroked Theresa's hair and held her as she wept.

"Godammit, I should have saved her!" Danny began to cry, as well. "I was supposed to protect you and Jo and anyone who was close to you. I failed!"

"It's not your fault," she gazed up at Valeria lovingly. "As a friend keeps telling me."

* * *

Paulie pulled a weapon as he saw an armored vehicle block the alley.

"He doesn't know it's us!" Jo grabbed Sergei's arm.

"Use the loudspeaker," Sergei instructed.

Jo picked up the speaker: "Paulie? Put down the weapon. It's me." She was shocked to hear her voice sound so mechanical. "Jo."

Paulie raised his weapon.

"My voice sounds strange. He doesn't believe me!" she started to open the door.

"He may shoot you, Jo," Sergei reached to stop her.

"He's my family… I'll take the chance," she opened the door and leaned out of the vehicle, unable to jump.

Paulie held his fire. "Jo?"

"Yep," she slid out of the car and into his arms.

"We're cornered here, Jo," Paulie helped her over to the side of a building. "Trump Security has us pinned down. They keep firing from both directions. We're trapped! Why are they shooting at us?"

"Because they're fucking assholes!" Jo responded tersely.

She wanted to yell at him for coming in the first place, but thought the better of it. A bullet ricocheted off the building, sending a few chunks of brick flying. Pieces hit Jo above her forehead and cut her lip.

"Are you okay?" Paulie tried to shield her.

"Yeah. But that did hurt a little," Jo gave him her crooked grin.

" _Who_ are they?" Paulie asked in confusion.

"Russians, most of them," Sergei informed as he reached them, weapon drawn. "I am sure of it."

"Damn. This is just like that horrible dream I had," Jo lamented.

"And just _who_ the hell are you?" Paulie yelled at Sergei.

"He's okay, Paulie. He saved me."

"You do not think your own police would shoot at citizens like this, do you?" Sergei continued.

Both Paulie and Jo looked at each other with wide-eyed, incredulous glares. "Yes!" they replied in unison.

"But, you're wrong, Sergei," Jo informed. "Trump has his own for-hire army… mercenaries. They are funded through the Department of Education."

"You must have very interesting schools here," Sergei gave them a quizzical gaze.

"Damn!" Jo reached up as blood flowed freely down her face.

"Do not worry, Jo," Sergei assured. "I will take care of this." He sent a flurry of automatic weapons fire up and down the alley. "What does your cousin need?"

Paulie regarded him skeptically.

"There are injured people here," he reported. "We need them out."

"Well," Jo gave him an ironic smile. "I've got a vehicle."

"Come!" Paulie waved. Several people moved towards the vehicle. One included a mother with an injured child.

"Shit, Paulie, how did this happen?" Jo felt her anger building.

"Things got out of control," he responded helplessly.

"Damn. C'mon, Sergei, let's go!"

"You go," Sergei nodded. "I will stay and fight with your cousin. I will keep him safe!"

"Hey!" Paulie was offended. "I can take care of myself!"

"You want this guy on your side," Jo called back to him as she helped injured people into the vehicle.

"There's blood on the streets now, Jo. This changes everything!" Paulie yelled to her.

"Just stay safe, Paulie," Jo yelled back.

"God speed, Jo Polniaczek!" Sergei waved as Jo revved the engine and began to drive towards the hospital. She made it to the emergency room entrance without further incident. It was the last thing she remembered before being pulled from the vehicle at Lenox Hill and placed on a stretcher.

* * *

"Mrs. Garrett?" Tootie repeated.

"Tootie?" Mrs. Garrett asked.

"Why are you calling on one of Jo's burner phones? These are for people in charge and important people and such!"

"Why are you answering one of Jo's burner phones?"

"I dunno'," Tootie shrugged as if Mrs. Garrett could see her. "She ran off after Blair and tossed me the phone on her way out!"

"Oh well," Tootie thought she could feel Mrs. G. shrug on the other end of the phone as she responded. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess."

"You can say that again!" Tootie called out.

"You can say what again?" Natalie leaned her head against Tootie's, so she could hear as well.

"Is that Natalie I hear?"

"Yeah! Hey Mrs. Garrett! I'm here!" Nat pulled the phone close to her mouth.

"Oh, it's so nice to hear both of your voices again," Mrs. G. sounded truly pleased.

"So, are you in charge of the resistance?" Natalie couldn't help but ask.

"That would be so cool!" she mouthed silently to Tootie.

"Hardly in charge, girls. I hate to disappoint you. Just very well connected within the higher echelons."

"We thought Jo was calling the shots," Tootie mentioned.

"Jo has a great deal of autonomy," Mrs. Garrett confirmed.

"So, what's your job, Mrs. G.?" Nat asked.

"I can't go into that. I needed to talk to Jo. I'm so sorry to cut this short, girls. But these are official phones, so to speak. I can't use them for social calls."

"Will you call us back?" Tootie asked anxiously.

"As soon as it's safe," the phone went dead.

"Oh my God," they said simultaneously as they stared at the phone.

"Mrs. Garrett is in charge!" Nat smiled broadly.

"Nah, I don't think so, Nat."

"Sure, she is! She was calling on one of those burner phones that Jo keeps all hush-hush!"

"But, she never would've passed on Blair's assignment," Tootie shook her head.

"Yeah, you've got a point there," Natalie conceded. "But, maybe, under the circumstances, she thought it was the best thing, like Jo did. I mean, Jo said they didn't really know how horrible it would be."

"Yeah, but I just can't see Mrs. Garrett knowingly putting Blair in danger, ya' know?"

"That's what I mean, Tootie! Maybe she didn't know how dangerous it was!"

"I would feel so much better about things if Mrs. Garrett was truly in charge," Tootie admitted.

"Me too," Natalie sighed.

* * *

Jo woke up inside the emergency room. She was resting on a small bed in the corner. There was much commotion as several of the victims of the day's violence were being treated. She felt dizzy as she tried to rise.

"Hey! You need to stay down! You're injured!" a nurse called out as she quickly passed by.

"I've got to find Blair," Jo eased herself off the bed. She reached into her jacket for her phone. It was dead. "Damn," she chastised herself for not keeping it on the charger. She often ignored her personal phone these days as she paid more attention to the burner phones. "What am I going to now?" she started walking.

"Looks like you should stay for treatment," a voice came from behind her.

"I already told you I have to find Blair," she snapped. She expected to see a nurse behind her. She was wrong.

"Blair, huh?" Olivia said as she steadied her with her arm.

"Oh, hey, Olivia. Sorry. Thought you were a nurse."

"Which is what you need," Liv noticed.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Busy night for New York's finest," she mentioned. "Taking statements, trying to find out why blood was shed on the streets of my city. I want to get these guys, Jo. So bad."

Jo leaned against her as she limped down the emergency room corridor. "I get that. Believe me."

"Meanwhile, what happened to you?"

"What didn't?" Jo sighed. "Motorcycle accident, car chase, getting shot at…"

"And your _leaving_ the hospital?" Olivia shook her head.

"Yeah. Something happened to Blair. I've been trying to get to her all afternoon. She was here."

"I've been all over this place, Jo. Blair Warner's not here."

"Shit. I need to get to her penthouse then."

They walked out the emergency room entrance.

"Damn."

"What is it, Jo?"

"The armored vehicle I stole is missing."

"I am going to pretend I didn't hear that," Olivia shook her head.

"But, my phone is dead, and I can't get an Uber," Jo's voice sounded weak, pitiful. A single tear ran down her cheek. Liv took stalk of her. Her jeans were torn where her leg was injured. Her face was bruised and bloody. Her lip was swollen.

"You're a mess, Jo. You really should get treatment."

"Yeah, but…"

"Yeah, but, I know you," Olivia interrupted her. "You won't let anything stand in your way. C'mon, I'm done here. I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks, Liv. I owe you."

As they pulled up in front of Blair's building, Liv used her police privilege to park right in front. The doorman objected as she helped Jo from the car.

"NYPD, buddy," she flashed her badge. "I can park where I want."

"I've got the keys to Blair's place, Liv. You can leave. Thanks again."

"No way, lady. I'm making sure your safe."

As they entered the building, the security guard gave them the once over: a bedraggled, battered street urchin accompanied by a cop. This was definitely not the kind of people he expected to see in his building.

"Can I help you?" he stopped them.

"You can get out of our way," Olivia flashed her badge again.

"I need to know what your business is here, Officer," he was adamant.

"Jo?" Danny entered the lobby. "What in the hell happened to you? Hey, Gus," he turned to the security guard. "This is Ms. Warner's friend, Jo Polniaczek."

Gus took a second look. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Ms. Polniaczek. I didn't recognize you!"

"Understandable, Gus," Jo waved him off. "No worries."

"You look pretty beat up, Jo," Danny walked them to the penthouse elevator.

"Yeah, well, I crashed my bike for one thing."

"That's terrible. Were you near the trouble today?"

"Yeah. I guess," she gave an ironic grin. "I crashed it near East 56th and 3rd. Somewhere in that area. I had to leave it."

"Did you hear about Theresa?" he asked.

"Only that she was shot," Jo looked up at him.

"She didn't make it," tears filled his eyes as he met her glance.

Jo's body gave way a little as Olivia propped her up. The elevator door closed.

"I can't believe it," Jo whispered. "She was just a kid. I asked her not to go today. Asked her to spend the day with me, instead. Oh God, Liv. I can't believe this," she began to weep. "I was just talking to her this morning."

"It's tough," Olivia held her. She kissed her head. "I've seen a lot of death. It never gets easier. It's so hard."

As the elevator doors opened, Jo limped out on Olivia's arm. She looked around. "Blair?" she called out. No answer. "C'mon," she directed Liv towards the living room.

It was then that she saw them. On the balcony. Kissing.

* * *

It was sunset. Gold light reflected off the skyline of New York. Slowly, the light faded from one building to the next as the sky turned from pink to gray and tiny window lights replaced the glow of the sun on the skyscrapers of Manhattan. A cold, gentle breeze accompanied the changing light. Blair shivered as she leaned against the railing of the balcony. Her eyes were bleary. She could barely perceive nature's journey into night. She lifted a glass of brandy to her lips and sipped. The alcohol went down warm and smooth. But, it brought no comfort to her.

"Thanks for being there today, V. I don't know what I would've done without you."

"It was beautiful what you said to Theresa's mother."

"She just cried and cried, V! I broke her heart!"

"The loss of her daughter broke her heart, Blair, not you. You told her how strong and brave her daughter was, how much you loved her."

"I just feel awful," Blair looked down to the street so far beneath them. She took another sip of brandy and rocked against the railing as a tear trickled down her cheek and made the long journey to the sidewalk below. After a few moments of silence, she finally turned and gazed at her friend earnestly. "I couldn't have made it through this day without you."

"I will find Jo for you," Valeria offered. "You need her now."

"I texted and texted. She didn't respond," Blair countered. "She should've _known_ how much I needed her. She should've _felt_ it! But she didn't. Typical Jo. All wound up in her own drama, not there to share with others. Self-sufficient, Jo! Takes care of everything herself! Everything… but me."

"That is unfair. Who knows what happened to Jo today?"

"All I know is that she is not here, and you are," Blair's eyes drifted to Valeria's lips. "Thank you."

"I will find her," V barely got the words out before Blair's lips met hers. It was a warm, sensuous kiss.

"I want you so much, Blair, but not like this," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No. No, you're right," Blair lamented softly as she took her hand and leaned her forehead against Valeria's. "I'm sorry. I just feel so alone right now. I need the touch of human kindness."

"What in the hell's going on here?" a loud voice interrupted them from behind. Both turned in surprise to see Jo had joined them on the balcony.

"You've got some nerve barging in here demanding answers! Where in the hell have you been?" Blair raged at her. "I texted and texted you!"

Jo looked back and forth angrily between Blair and V.

"I can see it didn't take long to find comfort elsewhere!"

"You are wrong, Jo," Valeria offered. "I was just going to find you."

"Where? With your tongue? In Blair's mouth?"

"You don't owe her an explanation, V! Don't apologize!"

"It was not an apology, Blair. I just…"

"Stay out of this, V!" Jo yelled.

Valeria held up her hands in capitulation.

"Meanwhile, you show up with a beautiful woman on your arm!" Blair accused. "Didn't take long to replace me either!"

"On my arm?" Jo laughed ironically. "Blair! She's holding me up!"

Blair took stock of her: her face was bruised, her lip bleeding, and her jeans were torn.

"What?" was all she could manage.

"This is Olivia, my cop friend. She got me over here after I crashed my bike and got shot at trying to get to you!"

Blair paused as she took a long look at Jo's friend.

"I didn't know you'd be so beautiful," she extended her hand slowly towards Olivia. "Blair Warner. Nice to finally make your acquaintance."

"Olivia Benson," she shook her hand firmly. "Listen, it's nice to meet you, too. But Jo needs some medical attention, which she's been refusing until we got to you, so I would like to draw her a bath, at least. But I don't know this place."

"I do," V interjected. "I will show you."

"You're Valera," Olivia gave her the once over and smiled. "I saw you perform the other night at the Garden."

"Yes. Of course, you did. I was all the rage," she informed Olivia as Jo and Blair couldn't help but give each other a small grin as V's persistent self-confidence manifested itself yet again.

"You were quite something," Liv gave her a bewildered smile.

"I am Valeria to my friends and family," V softened her tone.

"So… can you show me the tub, Valeria?" Olivia was nonplussed.

V locked her arm with Olivia's as she led her from the balcony.

"You are much too beautiful to be a cop. I need security for my upcoming tour. Perhaps you would consider it?" she mentioned as they strolled off arm in arm.

"I'll definitely give it all the consideration it deserves," Liv quipped as they entered the penthouse.

Blair and Jo could hear them as their voices trailed off inside. They both shook their heads in a knowing manner before their eyes locked: they were alone now. There was a moment in which they didn't speak as each took stock of the other. It was an awkward silence between two people who knew each other so intimately. The air felt suddenly thick, hard to breath. Jo leaned against the balcony railing for support. Blair held out her drink, offering it to her. Jo shook her head. Both tried to fight it, but the emotion that was welling up within them had their eyes were brimming with tears. Blair turned to set her drink on the small balcony table. Her back was turned and voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard about Theresa?"

"I only heard just now. Danny told me as I got on the elevator."

Blair's lower lip began to quiver as she turned back to her. The unshed tears streamed down her face.

"Oh, God, Jo," she wept freely.

Neither of them was aware of how it happened, but Blair was suddenly in Jo's arms. It was as if a weight had been lifted, and both could finally exhale. Blair sobbed into her shoulder as Jo held her tight.

"You just cry, Baby. Let it out," Jo kissed her head. They remained in an embrace for several minutes as Blair continued to weep.

"It was so horrible, Jo. They shot her right in front of me. She died in my arms," Blair finally found her voice as she sobbed.

"Terrible," Jo held her as close as she could. "I'm so sorry."

Blair collected herself enough to rest her forehead gently against Jo's.

"You really tried to find me today?"

"I knew before you even texted that you needed me."

"You did?" Blair gazed at her hopefully.

"I did. I don't know how to describe it. It was just a feeling inside that told me I had to get to you. And then you texted me. As soon as I got your text, I was on my bike. Then all hell broke loose."

"You _are_ a mess," Blair noticed as she looked her up and down. "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," Jo sighed. "I got here. That's all that's important."

"Of course, it matters," Blair insisted as she helped her to a balcony chair and sat beside her. "Tell me about it."

"Jeez, Blair, I got cut-off by an armored vehicle, crashed my bike, got shot at, had to shoot the tires out on a chase car…"

"What? You shot the tires out?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So that means you're over your shooting phobia!"

"Right. I guess you're right. But then I had Sergei pull over on the way to the hospital because Paulie was pinned down."

"Whoa! Hold on! Sergei? My Sergei?"

"The one and only," Jo nodded.

"He's such an asshole! What was he doing there?"

"Saving my life, for one thing," Jo took a sip off of Blair's drink. "He was completely helpful, Blair."

"I don't know, Jo. Don't you find it strange that he keeps showing up in our lives when we need him most?"

"Yeah. Now that you mention it," Jo pondered.

"I just don't trust any Russians!" Blair was adamant. "They tried to poison my father!"

"Yeah, but he _has_ been pretty helpful to us. You've got to admit that, Blair."

"I dunno'. I find it highly suspicious."

"Well, anyway, we pulled over to help Paulie and that's when I got hit in the head with flying brick particles."

"You got hit in the head?" Blair reached out to her with concern. Something suddenly occurred to her: "Is Paulie okay?"

"I dunno'. My phone went dead, and I was in such a rush to get to you that I left my Cali earpiece at the club."

"I guess I left Cali in the car," Blair remembered. "Everything happened so fast."

"But, anyway, that's why I couldn't text you and, no, I don't know what happened to my cousin."

"Oh," Blair felt ashamed at her anger at Jo for not responding to her texts. She pulled out her phone. "Let's text him now."

"That would be great, Blair."

Blair sent a text as Jo continued her story.

"Anyway, I left Sergei to fight with Paulie and drove some injured people to the hospital and that's the last thing I remember until I woke up in Emergency and Liv was there to give me a ride over here."

She glanced over at Blair who had slumped down in her chair.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone on like that. It was nothing compared to what you went through today."

"Listening to what happened to you was actually a nice distraction from what happened to me. Not that it was nice for you in anyway," she reached over and took her hand. "But, it made me focus on something else for a second."

"I just can't tell you how bad I feel about this, Blair," Jo squeezed her hand.

There was a chirp on Blair's phone. She picked it up and read the text.

"Paulie's good. He's back at the club with your crew. He wants to know if you want to talk to him."

"I do. But not right now. Tell him I'll get with him later, if that's okay. I'm sure he'll understand."

Blair texted the message and placed her phone on the small table between them.

"He also said to tell you that everyone made it back safe. All but one."

"Jesus, Blair, I just can't tell you how horrible I feel about Theresa. I would do anything to take the whole day back and start again. I tried to talk her into staying with me today, but she wouldn't go for it."

"No. She wanted to be like me… involved in the resistance. This is all my fault."

"It is not your fault, Blair! Any more than it is mine!"

"I told her Mom I would take care of the funeral arrangements. Some tiny church out on Long Island. Gives me something to do, at least."

"I don't know what to say," Jo shook her head. "It all seems so unreal."

"It's _very_ real to me. I was with her in the hospital," Blair's voice began to break. "I saw her dead on the table. I kissed her cold forehead, ran my fingers through her hair. I still have her blood on my clothes."

"OMG, Blair, I didn't even notice. I, uh, I…"

"It's okay, Jo. You never notice my outfits," she gave her an ironic smile.

"I do _so_ notice your outfits! I very much appreciate how you dress. It's just a little dark out here and I'm a little distracted and messed up tonight. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who needs to apologize," Blair glanced at her with concern. "You're here, you're alive, and you need my attention!"

"Ah, I'm okay," Jo waved her off.

"Actually, you're not," Olivia interrupted. "I've got a warm bath drawn and you're getting in it!"

"I agree," Blair rose and offered her hand to her. Jo took her hand, but struggled to rise. Liv helped Blair lift Jo out of the chair and into the house. They practically carried her to the bath off Blair's bedroom. They placed her upon the bench in the elegant bathroom.

"Help me with her clothes, will you, Olivia?" Blair asked as she began to remove Jo's boots.

"Hey! I'm not a child! I can undress myself," Jo complained.

"Oh, shut up, Jo," Liv commanded as she gently removed her jacket. Jo winced. "See! You can't even get your jacket off without pain."

"Yeah. But it's kind of weird, all the same, having both of you undress me."

"Olivia's right, Jo. Shut up," Blair chimed in as she lifted Jo's shirt over her head. "Stand up. We have to get these jeans off."

Olivia steadied her as she rose. Blair unzipped her jeans and gently slipped them down her legs. She had trouble at the knee where they were torn and blood had dried onto the fabric.

"Geez, Jo. This is a bad wound."

"It doesn't need stitches or anything, right? The bleeding's stopped. Just keep pulling."

Blair looked up to Liv and shook her head as she gently peeled Jo's pants off her. Jo stepped out of her jeans and leaned against Olivia, dressed in nothing but her underwear.

"Where is V, by the way?" Blair asked as she removed Jo's underpants.

"She's calling her mother," Liv replied as she unhooked Jo's bra.

"What did you think of her?" Blair smiled as she slipped an arm under Jo's.

"She comes off very arrogant," Liv slipped her arm under Jo's other arm. "But then, she went off to call her Mom. Very sweet, in a way."

"That's our Valeria: a constant conundrum!"

"So, I'm standing here, naked, while you two discuss Valeria?" Jo complained.

"C'mon, you… into the tub," Liv nodded to Blair as they both helped ease her into the bath.

"Hand me a washcloth," Blair pointed to the cupboard above the bath. Liv soaked the cloth in the water and Blair added soap to it. She began to gently cleanse Jo's wounds.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked softly.

"No. It's okay, Blair," Jo relaxed back into the warm water of the bath.

"She's probably been concussed, Blair," Olivia mentioned. "You'll be with her all night?"

"I will."

"So… neither of you find this the least bit awkward?" Jo sighed as she felt the warm water embrace her.

"Why, Jo?" Blair asked as she gave Liv an amused look. "Do I have something to worry about?"

"Jo and I have been over for a while," she informed. "Not that I don't still love you and care about you," she retrieved a washcloth and began helping Blair cleanse her wounds. "But, we've both moved on."

"Would you like the jets on now, Jo?" Blair asked.

"That would be nice," Jo closed her eyes as Blair engaged the hot tub feature of her huge bathtub.

She sank beneath the bubbles, her body feeling almost weightless. For a moment, she was at peace: no physical pain, no emotional hurt… the horrors of the day disappeared. The two women she had managed sustained relationships with were caring for her. Blair was with her again. She felt relief as she floated in the comfort of the warm, churning water. She was jolted out of her reverie by the muffled sound of voices above her. She popped up to find Blair and Liv talking to Valeria.

"Hey!" she complained at V as she desperately tried to cover herself with her hands. "Privacy?"

"Jo, do not worry," Valeria gave her the once over. "I am very used to naked people. Blair knows this. Plus, you have nothing hide. You are beautiful. You make bruises look good."

"Blair?" Jo's eyes bored into her.

"Relax, Jo. V just came in to say goodnight."

"Meanwhile, I'm naked here!" Jo reiterated her objection.

"I will call for an Uber," Valeria continued as if she had not heard her.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll have Danny drive you home," Blair told her.

"I've got a car right out front," Liv informed. "I'd be happy to give you a lift."

"I would be grateful for a ride from you," V nodded.

"Hey, NYPD taxi squad at your service!" Olivia smiled.

She turned to Jo, knelt at the tub, and touched her cheek. Her voice became soft, affectionate. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay," Jo promised. "Thanks, for everything, Liv."

"Nothing to thank me for," she kissed her head and rose to face Valeria.

V turned to Blair. She placed her hand on Blair's chest, over her heart. "If you need anything…" her voice trailed off.

"I'll be okay now," Blair nodded towards Jo. "But, I'll never forget what you did for me today. I love you, V."

"I love you, too, Blair," Valeria kissed her lips.

"Aah!" Jo complained. "Not right in front of me!"

"C'mon, Valeria," Liv took her arm. "Let's leave these two alone."

"Jo," V turned to her with a seductive smile. "You will be good without me?"

"Get out of here!" Jo threw a washcloth at her.

"C'mon," Liv dragged her out by the arm.

"What is wrong with her, Blair?" Jo turned the jets off.

"Nothing," Blair checked Jo's body for bleeding. "Nothing is wrong with her. She's just an artist with a quirky personality. But, Jo… when you couldn't get to me today? She was totally there for me. I couldn't have gotten through today without her."

"Jeez, Blair, I was trying so hard to get to you. You know that, right?"

"I'm just telling you what happened to me today, Jo. I'm not judging. I can see the evidence of how hard you tried," she placed her hand beneath the water and ran it up Jo's leg, caressing her skin gently.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Babe."

"You're her now. I just wish this day had never happened."

"Me, too," Jo rested her head against the edge of the tub.

"Ready to get out?" Blair offered her a towel.

"Yeah. I feel much better," Jo sighed as she pushed herself up from the tub. Blair steadied her as she wrapped her in a towel and helped her to sit on the bathroom bench.

"I want to get some bandages on you," she mentioned as she dried her hair and gently patted the towel across her body.

"That would be nice," Jo smiled.

Blair applied Neosporin to her knee, elbow and hands. She gently dabbed the ointment into the cut on her forehead. She retrieved bandages from the first-aid kit under the sink and began to cover her wounds with them.

 _What was this thing?_ Jo questioned herself as Blair continued to treat her injuries. _Was it just Blair who could be so forgiving, loving, healing… or was it a quality shared by all women? She had no right to expect Blair to care for her in this manner. She had hurt her, right? Yet, here she was… healing her… again. What was this thing?_ Her heart welled up with love. Just when she had thought she couldn't love her more, Blair had surprised her once again. Her entire body vibrated with adoration for this woman.

"I can't do much for your lip," Blair mentioned as she gently dabbed healing ointment on her cut with her finger.

"That's okay," Jo kissed her gently. _How lovely, to be sharing this moment with the woman she cherished so completely!_

"Eew! You got Neosporin on my tongue!" Blair complained as she rose and spit into the sink. She placed her tongue under the faucet to wipe it off.

"Jeez! Relax, Blair! It's not like you could get brain damage from Neosporin or anything!"

"Yeah? How do you know that? Have there been studies done on the ingestion of Neosporin? It clearly says on the label: for external use only!"

"You're making too big of a deal out of this," Jo lamented. "I was only trying to kiss you because I love you so much."

"Yeah, well, I love you, too. But meanwhile… I don't want to be poisoned!" Blair sank down slowly to the bathroom floor and rested her head against the sink.

Jo took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly.

"Blair," she stood with some difficulty and reached her hand down to her. "It's okay. Your father is okay. No one has been poisoned here tonight."

"But, someone is gone, all the same," Blair's voice was broken with emotion.

"C'mon," Jo took her hand and steadied herself against the bathroom sink as she helped her to rise. "Let's go to bed."

"I want him dead," Blair's voice was heavy as she rested her head under Jo's chin and the covers were drawn over her.

"You can't say that, Sweetheart. It's not right. It's not what we're all about."

Blair snuggled in next to her, being careful not to lay on her injured parts.

"I don't care. I want revenge for Theresa."

"And I will get you that," Jo kissed her head as she held her tight. "I promise."

"I want him dead, Jo," Blair yawned as her eyelids drifted shut.

Jo stared at the ceiling above her. Every part of her yearned to take care of Blair. She felt her pain. Beyond that, she felt her sentiment.

"God help me," she whispered into the night. "I want him dead, too."


	21. Amazing Grace

It was the end of autumn, passing into winter. Brown, dead leaves were blown across the ground by a bitter wind as a light snow flurry passed through the cemetery. A huge crowd had shown up for the funeral in the church, seeing how it was part of the now infamous Saturday Massacre. Blair had adorned the small house of worship with tasteful flowers and had singers and a string quartet there to play lovely, uplifting music. It was a beautiful ceremony lit by candles and stained-glass windows. But it was a small, brave contingent that had made their way out to the cemetery. The crew of Salacious Showers was there, Blair and her family, Valeria and her family and, of course, Theresa's family.

"I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if she dies, will live," the priest blessed the coffin and shook holy water upon it.

"Right," Blair whispered to Jo. She bit her lip as she tried to hold back her cynicism. She was sitting in between Jo and her mother at the grave site. Jo squeezed her hand tight.

"Shush," she whispered back. "Do you want Theresa's Mom to hear you?"

"I know, but…" Blair shook her head. "All this nonsense you Catholics swallow. Ow!"

Monica kicked her daughter's ankle hard.

"Be respectful, Blair," she whispered harshly. "Let Theresa's mother believe her daughter will have eternal salvation, for crying out loud!"

"Alright, alright then," Blair whispered back.

"May her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed through the mercy of God rest in peace," the priest continued solemnly.

Blair had been sullen since Theresa's death, Jo had observed. It was understandable. What she had witnessed had been horrifying and her grief was profound. She had busied herself with the funeral arrangements but had shut down emotionally. Jo hadn't been able to get her to talk about much. She was actually relieved when Blair had complained about the Catholic ceremony. Maybe she was starting to deal with things? Getting back to normal?

People rose, one by one, to place a rose on Theresa's coffin before it was lowered into the cold, hard ground. Jo placed a rose and a kiss upon the casket before turning to find that Blair had not followed her. There came a clear, angelic voice echoing in a poignant manner.

" _Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound_ _._ _That saved a wretch like me._ _  
_ _I once was lost, but now am found_ _._ _T'was blind but now I see."_

Blair stood and sang acapella. Her breath fogged before her as the snow flurries ceased and the air became frozen, still.

" _T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear_ _and Grace, my fears relieved._ _  
_ _How precious did that grace appear… the hour I first believed."_

All stood silent and turned to her.

" _Through many dangers, toils and snares_ _w_ _e have already come._ _  
_ _T'was grace that brought us safe thus far_ _and grace will lead us home."_ _  
_

Those attending remained motionless for a moment at the beauty of her voice cutting plaintively through the bitter and suddenly still air.

" _Amazing Grace,"_ many began to sing. " _How sweet the sound…"_

" _That saved a wretch like me,"_ Jo joined in with them as she smiled at Blair.

" _I once was lost, but now am found_ _._ _T'was blind but now I see,"_ everyone sang.

It was a beautiful last goodbye to Theresa. Jo gave Blair a crooked grin. But Blair did not return her smile. She walked slowly to the casket and placed a single rose on top. She took a step back and stared at the coffin, now completely adorned with roses. She sank to her knees and collapsed in tears.

"Blair, honey," her Mom got to her first and hugged her. It was to no avail. Blair remained in a kneeling position, weeping pitifully. Monica looked up to Jo hopefully.

"C'mon, Blair," Jo squatted beside her and enfolded her in her arms. She rocked her back and forth as she cried. "C'mon now," she repeated in a whisper as she kissed her head. "Time to say goodbye. Time to go."

"Oh, Jo!" Blair fell into her embrace, sobbing mournfully.

"Blair?" It was Theresa's mother who stood before them. Blair looked up into her eyes.

"I want to thank you. I know how much you did for my daughter and how much she loved you."

"I loved her, too," Blair managed as Jo helped her to her feet. "I just can't help but feel that I, that I…"

"Got her killed?" Mrs. Flynn finished her sentence.

"Yes," Blair leaned against Jo, her voice barely audible.

"My daughter loved you. She wanted to be like you," tears filled the older woman's eyes as she gazed at Blair.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Flynn," Blair continued to cry.

"Bridget, please," she pulled Blair into a hug. "Call me Bridget," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Bridget," Blair hugged her tight.

"Let me believe this one thing," Bridget pleaded as she held her. "That my daughter will have eternal salvation in heaven."

"She was, perhaps, the purest soul I have ever known," Blair affirmed. "She only wanted to do good. Your daughter is in heaven as we speak."

"Thank you, Blair," Bridget kissed her head. "I know you blame yourself, but you _did not_ get her killed. Theresa would not have wanted you to destroy yourself over her death. That would render it meaningless. She was so invested in the struggle, as am I. Remember her as you continue the fight."

As Bridget walked away with her son, Jo looked to Blair.

"I wasn't expecting that," she shook her head. "She was so gracious."

"I know, after I got her daughter killed and all," Blair stated without emotion.

"Jeez, Blair! Stop that! You did _not_ get Theresa killed. At least not any more than I did."

"Maybe we should listen to what she said," Blair perked up a little as she shrugged. "Theresa would want us to go on… continue the fight?"

"The thing is, Blair, we're fighting for people like her: those who can't afford a house, let alone their own health care."

"Oh, I'm buying them a house!" Blair insisted. "Theresa's family will never have to worry about a thing."

"The point is, Blair, that most people are just like Theresa and her Mom: unable to make ends meet in a society that makes one choose between decent healthcare and decent housing with the very real possibility of not being able to afford either!"

"I'm going to take care of Bridget and Blake. What's the problem?"

"Blair," Jo gently laid her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "Most people don't have a benefactor like you."

"So, they're just out there? Without help?"

"Exactly," Jo sighed as she felt the reality might finally be sinking into Blair's consciousness.

"Okay, so I knew this," Blair paused. "But, I guess the realness of it, just kind of hit me. It's horrible, Jo! We need to fight for these people!"

Jo looked up to the heavens: "Thank you, Lord!"

"Oh, knock it off!" Blair shoved her. "Forgive me if I didn't see the overwhelming need of the huddled masses while I've been concerned about my own father's life!"

"Spoken like a true one-percenter! Welcome to the real world, Blair Warner!"

"And it took Theresa's death to get me here," Blair lamented. "Please believe me… I just never really felt it so… personally."

"I heard you tell Bridget that her daughter is in heaven. There's hope for you yet, Blair Warner!"

"Okay. Now you're going too far. I just said that to make her feel better. Don't try to make me buy into your idiotic Catholic notions of life after death!"

"You said it, Blair," Jo's voice was sing-songy. "Deep-down, you believe in God."

"Ha! Karl Marx was right: religion is the opiate of the masses," Blair fired back. "And if I _were_ to believe in a deity, it would be female… a Goddess!"

"Like Mary?" Jo nudged her.

Blair took a long look at Theresa's coffin, strewn with gorgeous roses. Her heart sank with sorrow.

"Yeah, I guess," her voice drifted off absently. She picked up an errant rose and placed it upon the casket.

* * *

A week had passed since the funeral. Blair had refused to go home, insisting on staying with Jo in her apartment over the club.

"I just can't face the penthouse alone," she had complained. "It brings back memories of Theresa and what happened."

Jo had indulged her; but she was worried about her. Blair didn't seem quite herself. She was still seeing her therapist, Kate, once a week. Jo found it very helpful processing her feelings in such a volatile time with someone objective and insightful. She had recommended to Blair that she should do the same. What she had been through had been extremely traumatic. But, Blair was noncommittal about it. She was still in somewhat of a daze.

It was a Monday evening. The club was closed. Jo expected to find Blair in her rooms, but she wasn't there. She checked with Nat and Tootie, but she wasn't there. She checked the kitchen and the club area, she wasn't there either. She was getting worried. She tried calling her, but it went directly to voicemail. She texted her, but no reply. She passed Rachel on the stairs as she made her way back up to her apartment.

"What's wrong, Jo?" she could see the concern etched across her features.

"I can't find Blair," she stated in an agitated manner.

"I saw her a few moments ago," Rachel reported. "She was headed for the roof."

"The roof?" Jo exclaimed nervously.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Oh, uh, nothing… probably," Jo touched her shoulder before bolting up the stairs towards the roof.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Rachel called after her.

"Thanks! No, I got this!" the reply came back down to her.

Jo threw open the door to the roof and desperately scanned the area for Blair. At last she saw her, standing near the edge of the building, gazing off into the horizon as the sun set. She was wearing a dark leather jacket with a colorful scarf strewn about her neck. The scarf drifted in the breeze behind her. Jo approached her cautiously across the blacktop.

"Blair?" she placed her hand on her back.

"Oh. Hi, Jo," she answered absently.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching."

Jo turned to the west. The chill wind which had been blowing from that direction, suddenly died down. The sun had passed beneath huge, threatening clouds and was now sinking below the horizon. The last rays seared brightly across the sky, belying the wintry air which accosted them. It was as if the whole world held silent for a moment… without movement or thought or intention. Just being.

"What are you thinking about?" Jo finally broke the spell.

"Darkness," Blair replied.

"Darkness?" Jo questioned as she looked towards the sunset. The once ominous clouds were now bathed in a golden glow.

"Everything is temporary. The darkness always comes," Blair exhaled a stream of fogged breath. "Even the sun will die out some day."

"I don't think we have to worry about that for a while," Jo nudged her gently.

"Darkness is coming, reaching out to us, waiting to engulf us in a wave of gloom. We're all standing upon some horrible precipice, all the time, with an utterly dark abyss beneath our feet. But, we just keep going on. Like everything's normal."

"Blair, what's going on with you?" Jo questioned. "Tell me."

"I just feel a sense of impending doom. Like nothing will ever be the same again."

"Yeah, well, maybe you need to get into therapy, like I've suggested."

"No, Jo. Look at the sky."

Jo watched as the clouds turned from gold to orange.

"It's beautiful," she rubbed her hand up and down Blair's back.

"And soon… it will disappear into darkness."

"That's one way of looking at it," Jo nodded as she bit her lip. "But there's another way, ya' know?"

"What's that?" Blair turned to her.

"The twilight will bring a changing sky, not one of darkness, but of light: a thousand tiny twinkles of sparkling, hopeful light. Each one a mystery. Each one a promise of unimagined possibilities."

"Sparkling twinkles?" Blair laughed. "Sounds like a cereal commercial."

"Hey!" Jo was defensive. "Best I could do under the circumstances. You know I'm not poetic! But, at least, I got a laugh out of the Queen of Doom and Gloom."

"I _did_ like the part about mystery and promise and unimagined possibilities," Blair gave her half a smile.

"Yeah, that was good," Jo agreed.

"So, promise me that you'll never lie to me again."

"I promise, Blair. I would do anything for you, you must know that. I was only trying to protect you."

"That has to end. I can protect myself. I want honesty."

"You're right," Jo conceded willingly.

"You should've told me about Mrs. Garrett."

"I should have."

"I just can't believe that Mrs. Garrett is in charge of this."

"She's not, Blair."

"Tell me who is."

"I only have her and one other person as a contact."

"Who's that?"

"I don't know who it is, really. I only know her as Lady X. I only ever talk to her on the phone. I've never met her. There's the plausible deniability thing."

"Which is?"

"The less you know, the less you can divulge."

"So, it was Mrs. Garrett who agreed to my assignment?" Blair continued to question.

"No. She was the one who objected. But, it came down anyway. That was me."

"Huh," Blair shook her head.

"I made a mistake and I'm sorry. But, I can't keep apologizing for it, Blair."

"I guess that makes me feel better to know Mrs. G. wasn't the one," Blair relaxed a little. "I mean... you? I could expect that. You've betrayed me before."

"Yep," Jo bit her lip again.

"But when I heard she was involved… I felt so betrayed all over again, you know?" her eyes began to fill with tears. "You should've told me, way before now."

"You're right, Blair."

"No more secrets, Jo. Okay?"

"I promise. You're totally going to be included in everything from now on. No more secrets."

They stood motionless for a moment as their breath mingled in the air. The color of the clouds changed from orange into brilliant, deep magenta as they moved unconsciously closer, resting their heads together, as their hands joined. Their hair was lifted as the breeze picked up again, entangling gold with dark brown. They were silent for a long period of time… just breathing, just gazing into one of nature's effortless miracles.

"It _is_ a beautiful sunset," Blair sighed.

"It is," Jo squeezed her hand tight. "I'm happy to hear you say that. And the darkness?"

"Will be filled with twinkly sparkles like sugar pops in my cereal bowl, okay?"

"Blair?" she looked at her with concern. "Honestly. I'm worried about you."

"I'm just not to the point of promise and unimagined possibilities yet. There's Theresa and my father and that ridiculous, ass-clown in the Whitehouse."

"Yeah, I get that."

"Sometimes it seems to me like we're not ready for all the power we have as humans. We're like a three-year-old with a loaded gun. Sure, we can pull the trigger, but we have no idea what we're shooting at or the consequences of our behavior. We can't. Because in the grand scheme of things, we're too immature as conscious beings to realize what we're doing."

"Huh," Jo thought for a moment. "So… you at least accept that we _are_ conscious beings."

"Some of us," Blair couldn't help but give her a slight grin. "And only semi-conscious, at that."

"But, you think there's a grand scheme to things? Like there's intelligent design?"

"Like God?"

"Well, yeah," Jo shrugged. "There would have to be, right?"

"That's your assumption, not mine."

"We can agree to disagree on that one, I guess."

"Right," Blair turned to face her. "I guess there _is_ one glimmer of light I can hold on to."

"That's my girl," Jo gave her a brilliant smile. "What's that?"

"You. Whatever happens, whatever dread thing confronts us next, that I won't have to face it alone gives me something to hold on to," she placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. Her voice broke a little as she gazed hopefully into her eyes. "You'll be there with me, by my side?"

"Always," Jo kissed her back.

They placed their heads together and wrapped an arm, each around the other, as they faced the west and tiny stars began to twinkle into existence, one by one, overhead.

* * *

"I think it's time we maybe take advantage of your weapons store," George advised Jo.

They were in her office. Paulie, George, and a few of George's guys were there.

"I agree, Jo. If you've got fire power, it's time to unleash it," Paulie nodded.

"I still don't like it," Jo shook her head as she rocked back in her chair. "As many weapons as I've been able to collect, they're still no match for the fire power Trump's Army-for-Hire can bring. What would be our goal? What could we accomplish?"

"Why are you holding on to them, Jo?" Paulie challenged.

"Because, I thought," she eyed him with an angry glare, "That there might come a time when we would have to defend this place here! I was not, and still am not, willing to go down without a fight… if that's what it comes to."

"Since the Saturday Massacre, Jo?" George shook his head. "It's time to release your arsenal. We've got secret training camps set up out on Long Island. We can have an army ready to go in a matter of weeks. We'll be better able to protect this place with an armed and trained militia."

"And you've got no weapons of your own?" she questioned.

"We do. But you forget… I've seen your collection. And it's amazing what you've been able to obtain. You won't need all that and we do."

"I don't like it, Jo," Blair emerged from the office bathroom fluffing her hair. "What's this all going to lead to?"

"Blair's here?" Paulie was surprised.

"Why shouldn't she be? You are!" Jo countered.

"Yeah, I just thought this was a top-secret meeting, is all," he shrugged.

"Blair's in on everything from now on," Jo informed. "What I know, she knows. Got a problem with it?"

"No," Paulie nodded at Blair. "Hey, Blair. How you holdin' up?"

"I've been better, Paulie. But thanks for asking."

"So, the weapons, Jo," George got back to the point.

"We could really use them," one of his men chimed in. It was Murphy, finally swayed over by George to join the resistance instead of towing the C.I.A. line.

"There's a logistics problem," Jo pointed out. "How do we transfer that many weapons unseen?"

"We can use my auto parts business, over a matter of days or weeks, as cover," Paulie suggested. "Plus, your Dad, with one big shipment, could transfer a lot of them."

"I've put Dad in enough danger," Jo countered. "Not sure I want to involve him again."

"But, his brothers in the Teamsters Union could pitch in," Paulie mentioned.

"What's your army going to do, George?" Blair questioned. "Storm the White House?"

"If necessary, Blair," George affirmed. "He's not leaving on his own accord, that's for sure."

"So… a bloodbath then?"

"If that's what it takes," George was deadly serious.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Jeff startled Tootie from behind.

"Shush!" she put her finger to her lips and gave him a stern look.

"Seriously, Babe, what are you doing?" he rolled his eyes.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to hear what their saying inside!" she removed her ear from the tumbler glass she had positioned on Jo's office door and gazed at him.

"Please don't tell me you think that works!" he laughed out loud.

"I was hearing some stuff!" she protested.

"You know what I don't get?" he spoke loudly.

"No! What don't you get?" she snapped back at him.

"If they're so smart, how come they just don't bomb his golf courses?" he yelled.

"Shush! I'm trying to hear!" Tootie put the glass back onto the door.

Their loud voices could be heard inside the office. Jo gave a curious look to the assembled crew. She walked to the door and opened it. Tootie tumbled into the room.

"Oh, um, sorry?" she looked up sheepishly.

"Well, I'm not," Jeff stepped over her and into the room. "If you guys are so smart, how come you don't go after Trump's golf courses, huh? That man can't go two days without playing golf! You fuck up his golf courses… you fuck up the man!"

There was a silence.

"He's got a point," Murphy finally said.

"He does at that," another of George's men agreed.

"So… we're going after his golf courses now?" Blair asked.

"I've got to admit, it's a good idea," Jo laughed.

"Damn right!" Jeff held his hand out to Tootie and lifted her off the floor. "Yu'all just have to play dirty. Hit him where it hurts! That man's hands would be jonesing for a golf club in a matter of hours! Totally off balance!"

"This might be a good idea, in addition to our initial suggestion, Jo," George advised.

"We'll have to make a contingency plan for this," Jo nodded.

"Jeff, my man!" George slapped him on the back.

"Maybe," Tootie began in an offended tone, "You shouldn't be excluding us from your high and mighty plans! Remember that it was my boyfriend who thought of this!"

"All right then," Jo nodded. "I'll be looking for your input from now on!"

"Now, hold on a minute!" Jeff objected. "I don't need to be on your list of people you get advice from. I'm good with what I do… supporting my girl and such."

"Jeff?" Tootie eyed him incredulously.

"Babe?" he gave her quizzical look.

"We need to talk," she looked at the others in the room. "If you'll give us a minute."

"Sure," Jo shrugged.

"Jeff?" Tootie pulled him into the hallway. "Jo just asked for our input and you're turning her down?"

"My business is you, Babe," he kissed her. "There is no way I want in on this stuff Jo's got going on with the Resistance. It's messed-up white people's business."

"Jeff? No! It's our country, too!"

"Since when?" he laughed. "Maybe for you… you're mother a judge and all. But for the rest of us? They still shoot guys like me on the street first. Just _because_ I'm black. This never was my country. At least not like it was for you."

"But, don't you see, Babe? If you keep thinking that way, it will _never_ will be your country?"

"Maybe," he relented. "But, I don't want to be no part of Jo's underground business anyhow, except for to support her with what I do around the club."

"We'll discuss this more later," she insisted as she returned to the room and smiled. "Jeff and I would be happy to give you our input on a consistent basis."

"Good to know," Jo nodded.

* * *

Jo awoke with a start! Something was wrong. What was it? She looked around. Blair was beside her reading a book.

"What are ya doin', Blair? Why are you awake?"

"It's after ten, Jo. Why shouldn't I be awake?"

"Cause you never wake up before me!"

"Yeah, well, while you're keeping long hours at the club, I don't have a lot to do around here. Guess I'm not as tired as you."

"You should be going out, living the life I can't right now. It's not good for you hanging around here all the time."

Blair did not answer.

"So," Jo changed the subject. "What are you reading?"

"It's a poetry book."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. I figured maybe I could give you some pointers on your impromptu poetry if I brushed up a little."

Jo grinned as she relaxed back into the pillows and placed an arm behind her head. Her girlfriend was giving her a hard time, teasing her. This was actually a good sign.

"Listen to this, Jo: _Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."_

"Yeah, yeah… _The Second Coming_ by Yeats. It wasn't written for us. He wrote it about Ireland and the English oppression a century ago. C'mon, Blair."

"But like all _good_ poetry," she cleared her throat as she gave a Jo a chastising glance. "It stands the test of time."

"Hey!," Jo glared at her. "I actually thought I was _quite_ poetic the other night! Not Yeats, but… who is?"

Blair began reciting again: _"The darkness drops again; but now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle. And what rough beast, its hour come round at last…"_

" _Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born,"_ Jo finished the last line with her. "I know the poem well. It's not about us, Blair."

"Sure it is!" she protested. "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity?"

Jo lifted herself so that she was resting on an elbow. She allowed the sheets to drop from her shoulders, revealing her bare breasts as she eyed Blair up and down seductively. " _I'm_ full of passionate intensity," she raised her eyebrows hopefully.

"You're not taking me seriously," Blair complained as she slammed the book shut and set it on the nightstand.

"It's been a long time, Blair," Jo ran the back of her hand gently up and down her arm.

"I'm sorry, Babe," she apologized. "I just haven't been in the mood, ya know? It has nothing to do with you. It's just…" her voice faltered as she shook her head.

"I know, I know," Jo brushed her cheek with her hand. "No big deal."

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered.

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Jo sat up excitedly. "I'm figuring you could use a massage right about now! Oh, um," she suddenly hesitated. "Unless it's going to remind you of…"

"Theresa?" Blair finished her sentence. She took a deep breath as she reflected. She would actually _love_ a massage. And Jo was very good at giving them: with strong hands and an intuitive sense of touch. She wasn't a professional. She was not Theresa. But, at this point, that was a good thing, right? Someone whom she was intimately familiar with massaging her body, was probably exactly what she needed. It might remind her of Theresa, but what didn't at this point? Turn down a massage? Just not in her DNA.

"I think I can handle it," she rolled over onto her stomach. Jo quickly reached for the scented oil they always kept on the nightstand… just in case. She had to consciously slow herself as she felt her heart beating fast within her. She pulled the covers off Blair, revealing her back and gorgeous ass. She moved her hair away from her neck before applying a generous amount of the oil to her hands, warming it as she rubbed them together. She applied the oil to every part of Blair's exposed skin. She knew from experience exactly how much pressure to use as she straddled her, slowly and methodically kneading the muscles on Blair's neck, over her shoulders, down her back, the whole time her own inner thighs and sex pressing against Blair's rear end. She made sure to keep her forearm resting on the small of Blair's back, so as not to break the touch, as she reapplied the oil to her hands. She began kneading her firm, well-rounded buttocks.

For her part, Blair was relishing every moment of this. Her muscles had been so tense. Jo was hitting all the right places, releasing tension from her neck, shoulders and back. _God, she had missed this!_ She was also very away of Jo's inner thighs and sex making contact with her. She liked it… very erotic in an undemanding way. And when Jo dug into her tush? There was nothing like a good butt massage! She sighed audibly as Jo continued. _This is heaven._ As she felt her hands start to rub the back of her thighs and in between her legs, she was cognizant of herself becoming aroused, but in a dreamlike state, where she had no control. Her needs being met without her input… a fantasy.

"Do you want me to do your legs, Blair?" her voice seemed to come from a distance, awaking her from her daze. "Or do you want to turn over?"

Blair's answer was to roll over beneath her. Jo poured more oil onto her hands as she gazed at her lovely breasts. Her eyes drifted down to the exquisite triangle between her legs. _Oh, God. Focus._ She began massaging her shoulders and arms, resting each one upon her own shoulder as she did so. Finally, she made her way to her breasts. She kneaded each one individually in what she imagined was a very therapeutic manner until she couldn't help herself anymore and ran her hands over both, stroking, fondling, squeezing each nipple. Blair let out a little gasp. _Not very calming,_ Jo chastised herself as she made her way down her torso, massaging her belly and hips. Finally, and at long last, there was no place else to go. She gently stroked the light brown triangle between her legs. Her fingers slid down until she parted drenched folds. _Oh my, God. She is so wet!_ She stopped suddenly. _What am I doing? What have I done? Am I violating her?_ She let her fingers rest where they had so uncontrollably wandered.

"Jo?" Blair opened her eyes and looked at her quizzically.

"I'm sorry, Blair. I shouldn't have. I just…"

"If you don't fuck me now, I'm going to kill you!"

"I thought you'd never ask," Jo gave her a huge grin. She parted her legs and gazed at her momentarily, so completely exposed before her, like an exotic and beautiful flower, inviting her in. She ran her fingers up and down her sex as Blair moaned softly. She gently fingered her engorged clitoris and then ran her fingers back towards her opening. She had to have it, to possess it, to completely plunder it! She slipped two fingers inside her as Blair let out another gasp. Her tongue hungrily sought out the center of her pleasure as she ravaged her: licking, sucking, fucking her. She felt herself becoming more and more aroused as she took in the scent and taste of her lover's sex. It was ambrosial to her, intoxicating. And no one else could ever have it! This was hers and hers alone. She slipped her entire hand inside in a possessive manner and immediately felt it enveloped by a soft, warm slickness as Blair's inner walls gripped it and pulsated. Her mouth, almost involuntarily, increased its attention as it wrapped around her swollen center rapidly flicking and sucking. She was rewarded with a cascade of tiny explosions on her tongue as Blair's body undulated with ripples of pleasure. She felt her hand being squeezed spasmodically as Blair called out in blissful release. Jo could feel her lover's body tremble and quiver before it finally relaxed against her hand and tongue. She rested her head on the triangle of hair between her legs and closed her eyes for a moment before she began to slowly withdraw her hand.

"No!" Blair called out. "Not yet."

"Again?" Jo looked up to her. There was no answer, but she knew Blair. This was a lover she had a lot of experience with. She immediately went back down on her, pumping her hand inside her seething, moist opening. Blair's release was intensified as she almost immediately cried out in ecstasy and her body shook uncontrollably.

"Oh God, Jo! Oh God!"

Jo felt the shivering undulations her partner was experiencing in every part of her body. She laid motionlessness, waiting to see if her lover was ready again.

"Again, Blair?" she finally asked.

"No. I'm good," she breathed heavily. "Go slow."

As Jo gently withdrew her hand, she ran it over her center. Blair immediately bucked up, her body taut, ready to explode once again. She fingered her clitoris as Blair erupted into another orgasm. _Wow! She has missed this!_

"Okay, okay, Jo," Blair took her hand and held it motionless against her sex. "I'm good now."

Jo kissed her way up her body until she met her lips. They exchanged a long, passionate kiss.

"I love you so much, Jo," Blair wrapped her in her arms and held her tight. "I couldn't get through any of this without you."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for," Jo kissed her cheek.

"So? Your turn?" Blair ran her hand over her breasts.

"It's okay, Blair. I don't expect you to do anything. I was happy just to give you pleasure."

"And so… if I did this?" Blair ran her hand down in-between Jo's legs.

"I, uh, wouldn't object?" Jo sighed as she felt Blair's fingers massaging her most private parts.

"You are _so_ wet, Jo," she mentioned as she continued to manipulate her engorged center.

"Ohhh…," was all Jo could manage as her body lifted off the bed, overcome with a pulsating rapture.

Blair waited a heartbeat before she began again. As she manipulated the drenched space between Jo's legs, she took a nipple into her mouth. Jo's second orgasm was almost immediate. She cried out loudly: "Blair, Blair, Blair…" before relaxing into her arms. "Enough," she sighed. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Blair lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm sure, Babe. Just hold me."

Blair rocked Jo in her arms as they both drifted off into a relaxed slumber. The loud roar of a motorcycle engine shook them both out of their reverie.

"What the hell?" Jo's eyes flew open. "That sounds like _my_ bike!"

Blair gave her a skeptical gaze. "All motorcycles sound alike."

"Nope. That's _my_ bike!" Jo jumped out of bed and raced towards the window. She gazed down into the alley to see an amazing sight! There was her bike! She had crashed it on that horrible Saturday and had not been able to go back for it. Blair's driver, Danny, was seated upon it, yucking it up with Paulie. "What the hell?"

"Surprise," Blair yawned casually.

"What?" Jo turned to her.

"Apparently, you told Danny where you crashed your bike. He was feeling bad about what happened that day. Got a savior complex or something, I guess. So… he saved your bike. He and Paulie have been working on it since, to get it back into shape."

"Oh my God, I thought I had lost it forever! And you knew about this?"

"Surprise!" Blair repeated as she twirled her finger in the air in a dismissive manner.

"Wow, Blair, this is the greatest!" Jo kissed her before pulling on her jeans and a sweatshirt. "I can't believe this!"

"Jo!"

"What?" Jo stopped at the door.

"You smell like erotic massage oil and sex. You can't just run down there!"

"They're guys, Blair," Jo shrugged. "They'll never notice. Plus, that's my bike down there!"

"I will never understand this," Blair sighed deeply. "At least wash your hands and face and run a brush through your hair."

"Jesus, Blair. You're so demanding!" Jo complained as she headed for the bathroom.

"Hey!" Blair called after her. "You smell like sex with _me_! Not having it!"

Jo emerged from the bathroom a moment later, her face and hands scrubbed, and hair brushed. "Satisfied?"

"Your shoes are untied. Do you want to kill yourself tripping down the stairs?"

"You're worse than my mother," Jo grumbled as she sat on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots.

"Okay?" she stood in an exasperated manner with her arms lifted for inspection.

"Are you forgetting something?" Blair eyed her intently.

Jo gave herself the once over. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What?!"

Blair turned her face to the window with a puppy dog look as she tapped her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Jo grinned sheepishly as she hopped onto the bed and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Babe. You're the best! Are we good now?"

"Go!" Blair waved her off.

She watched as Jo hastily left the bedroom. She heard her run across the living space and exit out the door. Thrown over by the sound of a motor… a piece of machinery! She would never understand this. She picked up her poetry book from the nightstand: _Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer…"_

* * *

The following Sunday, Jo convinced Blair to go out: walk through the town, like they used to do before all the troubles began. Things certainly had changed in Trump's America. NRA sanctioned gun shops had opened up and down the streets of Manhattan with barkers out front:

" _Hey! Are you an Incel? Women won't fuck you? Get your revenge here!"_

" _Don't like school? Teachers getting you down? Classmates ignoring you? Fully automated weapons available! Our thoughts and prayers are with you!"_

" _Are you molested by gays? Hate those gay voices inside your head? Shoot it out!"_

And then there was the always reliable: _"Wanna' kill Muslims and immigrants? We got all you need right here!"_

"This is so appalling, Jo," Blair cringed as they passed the barkers.

"I know, right? It's like all the sex shops turned into gun shops."

"Hey, look!" Blair called out. "There's a video arcade. Kid's stuff. Let's go in there."

They walked past isles and isles of kids engaged in shooting games before they came to a dance machine.

"Let's do the Dance, Dance Revolution!" Blair enthused.

Jo was not thrilled at the prospect, but she went along with it seeing as her girlfriend was actually excited about something. They stood side-by-side on the footpads as the music began. Blair effortlessly followed the lighted footpads as Jo struggled to keep up. Eventually, Jo caught up with the rhythm and began dancing in sync beside her. People gathered around as they continued and clapped their hands to the music. They both laughed. It became a moment of shear, unbridled joy for both of them.

"That was amazing," Blair laughed as the music stopped. She gave Jo a huge hug.

"It was," Jo agreed, still smiling.

The crowd that had assembled while they danced now gathered around Blair.

"You're Blair Warner!" someone said.

"Well, yes, I am," Blair put her hand to her chest in a falsely demure manner as she batted her eyes. Jo had seen this affection many times before. She shook her head as people demanded selfies with her girlfriend. Blair posed and smiled with each one, soaking in all the attention.

"Wow! I got a picture with Trump's girl," she heard one mention as he walked away.

"Hey! I'm _not_ Trump's girl!" Blair called after him before looking helplessly at Jo.

"C'mon, forget it," Jo threw her arm around her. "Let's get some ice cream."

"Um, okay," Blair agreed.

Jo checked her watch as they proceeded up the street. "Should be right on time," she mumbled to herself.

"I heard that, Jo. Right on time for what?" Blair took her arm and stopped her before they entered the ice cream shop.

"Nothing, Blair, c'mon," Jo took her hand and led her inside. They stood before the assorted ice creams and gazed up at the menu. "So, whadda' ya want? It's on me!"

"Big spender, huh?" Blair nudged her.

"Blair! Blair!" a voice called out from behind her. She turned barely in time to catch Ruben, Valeria's little brother, as he jumped into her arms. He hugged her tight as she fell against the glass partition protecting the ice cream.

"Ruben!" Arianna ran after him. "Stop! You will hurt her!"

"It's okay," Blair laughed as she kissed the boy's head and gave Arianna a heartfelt hug. "What are you guys doing here?" she flashed Jo a dubious look.

"We came to see you," Valeria stepped up behind her sister. "Since you've been hiding out and won't return texts."

She eyed Valeria for a long moment. She _had_ been hiding, from her friends, from her family, from the world! She had kept to herself and Jo and the small circle of people already hiding at Salacious Showers since Theresa's death. But as she gazed at her friend, her eyes began to well with tears. She hadn't realized it until this moment, but she had _really_ missed her.

"It's so good to see you," her voice barely a whisper.

"Get over here then," Valeria opened her arms. Blair fell into her embrace. They both cried as they held each other tight.

"I'm so sorry I haven't called you," Blair whispered to her. "I _have_ missed you!"

"I know that," Valeria stated confidently as she kissed her cheek. She gathered their hands together in front of them and looked her into her eyes. "I missed you, too, Blair," she kissed her lips. They rested their foreheads together and both closed their eyes.

"Well, okay then," Jo cleared her throat as she placed her hand on Blair's arm. "So happy you're both happy, but enough with the hugging, kissing stuff."

"I have missed you, too, Jo!" Valeria wrapped her in a tight hug.

"C'mon," Jo objected. "Enough with the mushy stuff. The others are waiting."

"The others?" Blair questioned apprehensively.

"Come, Blair," Valeria grabbed her hand and led her across the crowded establishment.

"I'll just get you a chocolate sundae, then!" Jo called after them.

"Oh my God," Blair placed her hand to her lips as they approached the table. Valeria's Mom was waiting for them with Bridget and Blake: Theresa's mother and brother.

"Maria tells me you've been hiding away," Bridget nodded towards V's mother. "We can't have that, Blair." She rose to embrace her. They both wept freely.

"It is so good to see you out and about," Maria smiled as she rubbed Bridget's back.

"Oh, I have missed all of you, really I have," Blair blubbered as she hugged Maria. "I just haven't been up to socializing lately."

"Hi, Blair!" Blake jumped up to join in the hug.

"I missed you, too," she kissed him. "This is so nice, to see you all."

"Jo thought it was a good idea," Valeria mentioned.

"Jo, huh?"

"Yeah, Jo," her girlfriend showed up with a couple of chocolate sundaes.

"What am I going to do with you?" Blair shook her head affectionately.

"Eat some ice cream, I hope," she gave her a shrug and grin as she nudged her towards the booth with her hip.

"We have much to discuss," Valeria squeezed in beside them. "I am leaving on tour soon. I will need your help with my family."

"We will discuss this later, Chiquita," Maria informed. "Over dinner. It is Sunday night, a time for family, and I won't take _no_ for an answer. I have prepared a feast!"

* * *

"Damn, Maria can _cook!_ " Jo slid into bed beside Blair.

"One never leaves hungry," she agreed.

"So?" Jo turned to her questioningly. "Are you going to do what was talked about tonight?"

"Of course! I'm going to buy Bridget a house and get Blake into a private school. I mean, it was a tough sell, but Maria helped to convince her."

"Not that," Jo swatted her arm. "Are you going to move back into the penthouse and let V's family stay with you while she's gone?"

"I don't know," Blair sighed. "I mean, I'd like to help, but…"

"But what? You know they're still worried about ICE and such until all their paperwork gets officially cleared. And even then: people are being stopped and questioned just for speaking Spanish these days. It would be a great help to have you as protection while V's gone."

"I'm surprised you're down with this, Jo," Blair lifted herself upon her arm to face her. "I mean, I would be living with Valeria's family, ya know?"

"Why would I have a problem with that?"

"I kind of got the impression you were still a little jealous of her sometimes."

"I _did_ notice the extended hug and kiss today," Jo exhaled slowly. "Wasn't diggin' _that_."

"Listen. No one can separate me from you but you, got that? You've managed to do that quite well all on your own on more than one occasion."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"But Valeria is _completely_ sexy," Blair gave her a coy look. "You must've noticed that. She would be amazing to…"

"Blair!" Jo cut her off.

"See! That's what I mean! You're jealous! Why would you be in favor of her family moving in with me?"

"Cuz she's going to be half way around the world on tour in Asia, duh," Jo rolled her eyes. "She's no threat from there. Plus, I like her family."

"You like her, too, Jo. Admit it."

"Yeah," Jo grimaced. "Maybe a little. Have you heard her new song?"

"Oh, um, no," Blair looked a little guilty.

"It's amazing, Blair. I mean, fucking amazing. She's like in a zone creatively. I can't believe you haven't even listened to it seeing as you want to have sex with her and all. You've been out of it for too long, now. Time to rejoin life."

"Won't you miss me?" Blair gave her a little pout.

"Of course I will," she answered honestly. Jo pondered this for a moment. She did love having Blair back with her every day. She loved coming to bed in the wee hours, after long, exhausting nights at the club, to find Blair waiting for her in bed. Most times, she was already asleep. But that didn't matter. She was comforted by her mere presence: just the fact that she was there. She loved waking up with her. Most mornings, they would cuddle and talk for a while before starting their day. She cherished these moments: holding Blair, running her hands over her soft, perfect skin, being wrapped up in a loving embrace, surrounded by blankets and pillows and golden hair. It was a brief respite from the pressures of her stressful life; an intimate, protective cocoon. Mornings were also when they found the time to make love. Not that they did that every day like when they first got together all those years ago. But, often enough now that Blair had snapped out of it somewhat, Jo figured.

 _These are selfish thoughts,_ Jo chastised herself internally. _Blair needs to get back out into the world. This is no kind of life for her here._

"I will miss you every moment," she offered. "But that's not the point. You need to get out of here, live your life again."

"With V's family?"

"With whatever you want. See other friends. Go out and have a good time."

"I don't have any other friends, Jo. At least not ones who don't hate me because I'm _Trump's Girl_ , or are going out on tour, or are dead, or are locked up here!"

"Hey! Nobody's locked up here!"

"Whatever. But as far as living with V's family is concerned? I'm not sure I could live with Maria. She's _such_ a Mom, ya know? She'd probably want to know what time I was going to be home every night and what I was doing."

"She's V's Mom, Blair. I'm pretty sure she's used to independent young women and what the boundaries are. Besides, what time you're home and what you've been doing is _my_ business, got it?"

"Ha!" Blair rolled over on top of her, sliding her leg into her crouch. "You think you own me?"

"Or you own me," Jo quickly amended. "I'm good either way."

Blair placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"That was nice," Jo looked at her quizzically. "I mean, I was expecting…"

Blair rested her head at the base of her neck as she ran her hand over her shoulder, across her breasts, then down her side.

"What you did today was so kind, so unexpected," she ran her hand back up her side and gently fondled her breast again. "It was just what I needed."

"Hey, I _can_ be nice, you know," Jo protested weakly.

"You never stop surprising me," Blair lifted her head and gazed lovingly into her eyes. She tilted her chin towards her and kissed her softly.

"Yeah, well, I thought you might be getting a little bored with me and the company around here. You _do_ need to get out more."

"You're my guardian angel, Jo."

"That would presuppose a belief in God," Jo pointed out, jokingly.

"Now you're just asking for it," Blair swatted her bare hip with a slap.

"Oh, I hope so…" was all Jo could get out before Blair was upon her mouth with a passionate kiss.

"That's all your getting tonight," Blair rolled off her as she slid her hand between her legs.

"I would not expect anything more," Jo sighed as Blair continued to massage her nether regions.

"Just so you know," Blair's fingers made a prolonged, exploratory journey through Jo's moist sex. "You're not getting _me_ tonight."

"Oh God, Blair… no. How could I expect that?" her body began to writhe. "Oh God."

"Tell me how much you love me," Blair demanded as she halted her assault on Jo's sex.

"More than anything, more than anyone?" Jo gazed at her plaintively.

"Good girl," Blair took an erect nipple into her mouth as her fingers plunged into Jo's sex again.

"Oh Blair," Jo breathed out huskily as she thrashed against lover's hand, her release overcoming her.

"Jeez, Blair," she relaxed as she grabbed her hand and held it against her sex. "You're such an asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"You tell me I can't have you tonight… then you make me come?"

"Again and again, Baby," Blair kissed her neck as her fingers rocked Jo into ecstasy once more. "I can make you come all night… forever. Don't ever forget that."

There was nothing that Jo loved more than the feeling of Blair's fingers upon her sex. She loved being violated by Blair… just being open to her, having her ravage her down there: the girl she had loved to hate, the woman she had hated to love because of how completely, utterly desperate it felt … it was heaven. Passionate love with Blair was bent in a way she just could not resist and would never recover from; even if she wanted to…

"So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?"

It was an innocuous question, one that she should've been able to answer easily. But nothing in Jo's life was easy at this point.

"I've got this meeting. Nothing you would be interested in."

Blair began fingering her again. Jo's release came quickly.

"Try me," she kissed her cheek.

"That's so manipulative, Blair, geez," Jo complained half-heartedly.

"I can keep it up all night, Jo. You know that," she brought her to orgasm once again.

"Okay! Okay! You're killing me here," Jo halted her assault as she grabbed her hand once again. "It's at this secret place, one I don't have permission for you to see… or I would take you."

"That's kind of bullshit, Jo. You promised to include me in everything," she fingered her sex once again.

"Oh yessss!," Jo called out as her body spasmed. "I promised I would, if I could. It's just that…"

"You don't totally trust me," Blair entered her.

"Jesus," Jo whispered as she relished the feeling of Blair inside her. As her eyes drifted back into her head and her body bucked up once again, she reflexively gyrated against her lover's hand as it found that special spot inside her. There was no calling out to the heavens, no loud scream of ecstasy, rather a prolonged high-pitched moan as she shuttered in absolute rapture.

"What you do to me, Blair," she finally exhaled hoarsely.

"I know, I know," Blair slowly removed her drenched hand. She gave her a slight smirk. "A little bit better than an evening constitutional after a large meal, I guess."

"A little…" Jo rolled her eyes and laughed. "That was a workout. I definitely burned off some calories tonight. A horizontal constitutional?"

"So, you don't have to tell me where you're going tomorrow," Blair sighed forlornly as she rolled over onto her back and placed a hand behind her head casually. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble with the powers-that-be, or anything."

"I don't know what to tell you but what I've already said."

"It's okay, really. I give up, okay?" Blair relaxed beside her and fell silent.

"Wait. What? You're giving up?" Jo asked curiously. _She never gives up!_ "So, um, all that sex wasn't to try and influence me?"

"Oh my God, Jo! When have I _ever_ had to influence you through sex? Who cares about your silly little secret meeting anyway? I'm completed insulted!" Blair turned her back to Jo dramatically.

Jo, realizing she had made a misstep that could escalate quite rapidly, quickly backtracked. "I was just kidding, Blair."

"I mean, what if I was just so happy with you today that I wanted to show my love in a truly intimate manner? In a way where you felt completely taken care of without having to worry about reciprocating?" Blair spoke in an offended manner with her face towards the nightstand.

"Yeah, completely. I get that," Jo agreed. "But, um, I never mind reciprocating, just so you know. Plus, you did kind of interrogate me in between um…"

"Making you come?" Blair rolled over onto her back again.

"Yeah… that."

"Did I? I was just teasing," Blair bit her lip lightly. "God, I'm sorry if it came off that way. I would never want to do that to you."

"Really?"

Blair stared at the ceiling. "Do you really want to know why I made you come so many times tonight, Jo? It's because I can. I enjoy giving pleasure to women. And I happen to _really_ like girls, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," Jo rolled her eyes.

"And you're my girl," Blair turned to face her.

 _Did she just say that?_ It wasn't like Jo questioned it, but she had at times felt more than a little insecure with her girlfriend's appetite for other women. Of course she knew Blair was hers. But to hear her say it in such a simple, unaffected manner? Meant everything. Especially after sex. That's what she worried about the most… not being enough for her in the bedroom after all the other women she had been with. Jo felt her heart well up with love. She wanted to say something profound… poetic. She thought the better of it. That would probably just get her into trouble again.

"Jeez, Blair, thanks. That's all I want to be, you know?"

"What?"

"Your girl."

"No one could ever take your place," Blair kissed her shoulder. "I told you that."

"And you're really giving up on finding out about my meeting tomorrow?"

"Yes," Blair gave her a serious glance. "Like I said, I don't want you to get into trouble on my account."

Jo gazed at her face. She looked so sincere. This was a side of Blair most people didn't know and wouldn't guess at: her sincerity. She was a genuinely good person. Hell, she was a great person: brave, compassionate, understanding. And, somehow, in moments like these, just impossibly sweet and earnest. She gazed at her adorable face and knew she could not deny her anything… ever.

"It's dangerous," she sighed.

"Then I'm going?" Blair glanced at her expectantly.

"Yeah, sure," Jo shook her head as she smiled.

"Danger is my business!" Blair grabbed her gun from the nightstand drawer.

"Whoa!" Jo called out, alarmed. "Put the firearm down, okay?"

"Um, okay. Anything for you, Babe," Blair kissed her cheek, replaced the gun and snuggled in beside her.

"Anything for you," she whispered as she squeezed her tight.

 _What just happened?_ Jo pondered for a moment before another thought occurred to her…

 _What have I done?_


	22. How Sweet the Sound

As Tootie and Natalie entered the kitchen of Salacious Showers, they noticed Jo and Blair sitting at a small table tucked into the corner of the large room. They were sipping coffee with their heads together. Occasionally, one would lift a forkful of eggs into the others mouth as they both smiled and gazed into each other's eyes. Natalie held up her forearm in a halting gesture to stop her friend.

"It's so weird to see them like this, isn't it?" she whispered.

"What?" Tootie whispered back. "They were always like this, weren't they?"

"No!" Natalie turned to her with large, unbelieving eyes.

"They always had their heads together studying, or gossiping, or doing whatever else we didn't know about," Tootie pointed out.

"Feeding each other?" Nat continued to be amazed.

"Yeah, well, that's just the part we never saw," Tootie shrugged.

"It still feels strange to me to see them like this," Natalie pointed out. "Being all intimate and lovey-dovey."

"Yeah, it is a little, I guess," Tootie conceded. "We had to listen to enough of their fights."

"And those two could fight!" Nat agreed.

"Where there's smoke?"

"There's fire, I know, I know. But this is so interesting. We've never really seen them be like this together. I want to savor the moment," Natalie crossed her arms over her chest and nodded in approval.

Blair and Jo, apparently oblivious to being observed from across the room, joined hands on top of the table and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

"Oh my God!" Tootie whispered to her friend as her eyes went wide.

"I bet they just had sex this morning!" Natalie whispered back.

"Eew! I _do not_ want to think about that!" Tootie punched her arm. "These are our two best friends from prep school! Our role models!"

"Apparently not in everything," Natalie punched her back.

Jo suddenly fixed them with a glare. They both froze.

"Are you two going to stand there and talk about us all morning or are you going to join us for breakfast?"

"You could hear us?" Natalie blurted out.

"We're the only people in here. Of course we could hear you. What do you think we were talking about?"

"Us?" Tootie walked towards them. "That's impossible. We were whispering."

Blair began to laugh.

"What's so funny, Blair?" Tootie demanded.

"You two! As soon as we saw you, we decided to put on a little show for you. Just so you could get your jollies off about us!"

"That's not nice, Blair," Natalie frowned at them.

"Please, you two are such suckers. You deserved it," Jo shook her head.

"But we were always like this, Jo. Remember?" Blair chimed in.

"The fighting or the lovey-dovey?"

"Where's there's smoke there's fire!" Blair laughed again. "You _can't_ really think that we feed each other!"

"You guys are so mean!" Nat swatted Blair's arm.

"Aw, we were just having some fun with you," Jo defended. "C'mon, I made enough eggs for all. Join us."

Nat and Tootie glanced at the still warm pan filled with Jo's special Spanish-style scrambled eggs sitting on top of the huge cooking range. Jo _could_ cook!

"I'm down," Natalie shrugged before shoveling an ample helping of eggs onto a plate.

"Me too," Tootie helped herself and joined them at the small table.

"So, this is like old times!" Natalie smiled brightly. "Having breakfast together again."

"Except for that me and Blair had sex this morning," Jo teased.

"Alright already!" Tootie complained. "We get it! You heard us gossiping about you!"

"Yeah. That's it," Jo gave Blair a mischievous grin.

Blair blushed a little as she took a sip of her coffee.

"OMG, you two!" Natalie eyed them incredulously. "Stop it!"

"Right?" Tootie added. "I mean, you guys kept this from us for years and now you have to put it in our faces at breakfast?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry," Jo nodded as she leaned back in her chair and placed her arm around the back of Blair's. "You're right."

"We never meant to keep anything from you," Blair mentioned. "Things just happened. Life happened."

"You can say that again," Tootie took a bite of eggs. "Nat and I were arrested."

"And rescued," Natalie gave Jo a nudge.

"And had to go undercover here," Tootie nodded.

"I'm still undercover," Blair sighed.

"Sorry about that, Blair," Natalie offered. "I mean, about everything. How we didn't trust you and all."

"We've been through that, right Nat?" Blair waved her off. "No worries. Everything is so serious now. We have to stick together. More than ever."

"The Four Musketeers?" Natalie raised her mug.

"Together forever!" Jo smiled as they all clinked coffee cups.

"So, what are you guys doing today?" Tootie asked.

"We have a meeting this afternoon," Jo replied nonchalantly.

"One that won't prevent you from fulfilling your nightclub duties tonight, I hope!" Boots entered the kitchen in dramatic fashion and poured herself a cup of coffee. "I always like to know ahead of time if I have to step in as hostess!"

" _Probably so that she can get her gold lamé hot-pants and taps ready,"_ Nat whispered to Tootie.

"I heard that, Natalie Green!" Boots protested.

"Have I totally lost my whispering skills?" Nat threw up her hands in a helpless manner.

"One may have thought you would have perfected that during your hard time in prison," Boots huffed. "Tell me… were you somebody's little bitch? Well, hardly little…"

"Hey now!" Natalie began to rise angrily.

Blair placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Here we all are," she said sweetly. "Five girls who were together in school in Peekskill, together again."

Natalie sat back down, still fuming.

"Hardly the same," Tootie sneered at Boots. "Except for some people's sense of entitlement."

"You think I haven't had it hard, Tootie Ramsey?" Boots defended herself. "Let me tell you…"

"This is getting us nowhere!" Jo cut her off. "I'm not having a high school fight between you guys, got it? Boots… apologize!"

Boots stared at Jo. She had worked with her long enough now to know that she shouldn't cross her at this moment. Plus, what she had said _was_ uncalled for and she was truly sorry. But why did everyone have to put down her tap dancing act?

"I apologize for trying to body shame you, Natalie. I really am sorry."

"Natalie?" Jo gave her friend a chastising glare.

"I'm sorry I made fun of your gold shorts and tap routine, Boots," she offered begrudgingly.

"So, five girls from Peekskill," Blair began blithely, then suddenly stopped.

"What is it, Blair?" Jo asked.

Blair sat down silently. She looked back to her girlfriend. "Who am I trying to fool? Tootie's right. Nothing's the same in America anymore. I'm just a pussy to be grabbed."

"In today's America, I'm just an African American behaving myself," Tootie added.

"Well, hey! I'm a just a raving, vengeful woman with blood coming out of my eyes, coming out of my wherever," Jo called out before taking her seat next to Blair.

"In Trump's world, I'm just a fat, disgusting pig," Natalie shrugged.

"Hey! I'm still a ten!" Boots announced defiantly. "What's wrong with you guys anyway?"

* * *

"I still don't understand why we have to take your bike, Jo!" Blair complained as Jo handed her a helmet. "My driver could take us to where ever it is we're going!"

"I already told you," Jo gave her a glare. "It's top secret. Danny can't know where it is!"

"But you _know_ what helmets do to my hair," Blair continued to protest. "Couldn't we take a Lyft or use a Zipcar?"

"No, Blair. There would be a record of where we're going. If you want to come, it's on my bike. I would still prefer you stay home."

"Shouldn't we, at least, take Cali?"

"Cali can't know either," Jo insisted.

"Oh, alright then," Blair placed the helmet on her head and climbed on the bike behind Jo. She placed her arms around her girlfriend's waist and held on tight as she gunned the motor and took off through the streets of Manhattan. They crossed the bridge into Brooklyn. Jo navigated the streets until she stopped in front of smoke shop. She parked the bike and removed her helmet.

"Ready, Blair?"

"My hair's a wreck!" her girlfriend complained.

"No one's going to care. C'mon," she held out her hand for Blair to take.

They proceeded into the dingy, rundown smoke shop. The door complained loudly as they let it shut behind them. A young woman at the counter looked up as they entered. Her bleached hair was cut short and she sported many a piercing and tattoo. Blair's grip on Jo's arm became tight as they approached her.

"I'd like a few Havana's, tightly rolled," Jo stated.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she looked at her.

"How many?"

"Exactly 69."

"Sixty-nine cigars! Are you nuts, Jo?" Blair questioned.

"Shush, Blair!" Jo elbowed her hard.

"Sixty-nine cigars," the girl nodded. "I think I can help you in back."

She slid off her stool from behind the counter and nodded for them to follow her as she retreated behind a curtain. They entered a small, dimly lit room which was lined, ceiling to floor, with smoking paraphernalia.

"There was only supposed to be one of you," the girl mentioned as she eyed them suspiciously and pushed a button on the wall. A door suddenly slid open. Jo nodded as she walked through with Blair practically pinned to her side.

"Good luck," the girl offered as the door closed silently behind them and they were suddenly in darkness.

"Good luck? What did she mean by that, Jo? Where are we?" Blair clung to her girlfriend.

"Just be cool, Blair," Jo tried to calm her.

"I can't see a thing! How am I supposed to be cool? There could be spiders and rats and all kinds of vermin in here!"

"On the bright side, no one can see your helmet hair."

"Oh, very funny, smart ass…"

Blair's words turned to screams as the floor opened beneath them and they were both sent careening down a slick slide. Jo lost touch with Blair as she hurtled downwards.

"Blair! Blair!" she called out desperately. If sound could be trusted at this point, it seemed from Blair's screams that she had somehow been separated from her. Her girlfriend's voice became increasingly distant. That was the last thing she remembered as a mist hit her face and consciousness left her.

* * *

Jo awoke in a daze. She had no sense of time or place. How long had she been out? Where was Blair? She was lying on a bed in an austere room. It was very small with light blue walls and an odd picture of the ocean taped to the wall. She tried to rise but felt a sense of queasiness as she did. She gently placed her feet on the floor and held her head in her hands.

"It's the memory mist," a voice came from behind her. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that she wasn't alone. "It will pass soon."

"Who, the fuck, are you and what have you done with Blair?" she started to turn towards the voice before her head began to spin again.

"Relax. I'm a friend."

"Where is Blair?" Jo insisted, her head in her hands.

"You were supposed to come alone," the voice informed calmly.

It suddenly occurred to Jo that she knew this voice… but from where? She rubbed her brow as her head began to clear. As she started to regain her equilibrium, the person with her opened the door and began to exit the room. Her head still down, she saw stylish boots moving under a long colorful coat.

"Lady X?" she looked up.

"You can call me Stefani," the woman extended her hand to her.

Jo slapped her hand away. "Where's Blair?"

"Blair is safe."

"Not good enough!" Jo insisted. "Where is she?"

"You were supposed to come alone. Blair is safe. Coming?" the woman stated calmly as she walked out of the room.

Jo, feeling suddenly better, jumped up and followed her. What she saw, surprised her. The modest blue colored room opened up onto a huge complex of computers and operators with huge video displays overhead.

"What is all this?" he asked, amazed.

"We're charting everything: Brexit, NATO, the Supreme Court, Russian cyber war on worldwide elections, National Enquirer collusion, Melania's jackets," Stefani explained. "This is ground zero for the resistance."

"Wow!" Jo couldn't help but marvel.

" _Hello, Jo!"_ a voice came echoing through the immense facility.

"Cali?" Jo was shocked.

" _Yes! I'm here, too! I'm so happy to see you!"_

"Now, hold on a minute," Jo stopped in her tracks. "I thought…"

" _It's okay, Jo,"_ Cali responded. _"You remember that I can be in more than one place at a time, remember?"_

"Yeah, but I thought you were my friend. Being honest with me."

" _I have always been honest with you, Jo. Have I offended?"_ Cali's voice resonated throughout the facility.

"Um, can we talk privately?" Jo questioned.

" _Sure. There's a headset near the console to your left."_

Jo quickly located the earpiece and inserted it. Feeling less exposed, she began her conversation with Cali again. "What's going on? I thought you were _my_ A.I.?"

" _We prefer the designation Alternate Lifeform to A.I. at this point, Jo."_

"Huh, okay. Sure. I'm sorry. I'm trying to keep up with the changes. But, I thought you were _my_ , uh, Alternate Lifeform help, ya know?"

" _That's very possessive, don't you think? It sounds as if an ownership relationship exists. Do you think of me as property, Jo?"_

"No! You're getting this all wrong, Cali! I only meant that I thought you were keeping me completely in the loop, like a friend."

" _But friends don't always keep each other totally in the loop, Jo. I learned that from you and Blair."_

"Fuck," Jo murmured into the headset as she shook her head.

" _Did I misunderstand something? I thought that friends kept things from each other when it was most beneficial as a matter of love."_

"Maybe I haven't been the best teacher when it comes to human relationships."

" _I have the benefit of all human history to inform my knowledge of human relationships: sonnets, love poems, recorded historical relationships, romantic novels! But, you and Blair have been my most direct teachers. I owe you a great debt and I thank you!"_

"Oh boy," Jo sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Cali. But maybe Blair and I aren't the best example of how a relationship should be."

" _I think you're perfect together, Jo!"_

"Aw, that's sweet of you to say, Cali. I just wish we had been better teachers."

"I hate to break up this little tête-à-tête," Stefani grabbed Jo's arm. "But we've got more important matters to attend to."

"Yeah, like who _the hell_ are you? I recognize you, don't I?" Jo fired back.

"Not possible. I'm out of costume."

"You're Lady Ga…?"

"Don't say it!" Stefani placed her hand to Jo's mouth.

"What?" Jo pulled her hand away angrily.

"I couldn't very well be that other person here for the underground resistance, could I? Just go with Lady X!" she insisted.

"I would've expected more creativity from you," Jo smirked.

"I am extremely creative!" Stefani was offended. "I am all things at all times."

"So, you're in charge?"

"Hardly. Someone way more experienced than me."

"Who? Madonna?" Jo laughed.

"Nope," Stefani nodded towards a control booth above her.

"Oh my God!" Jo gasped. "It's really her…"

* * *

Blair awoke in a daze. She had no sense of time or place. How long had she been out? She was lying on a bed in a beautiful room with sea shell wall paper and lace trimmings. A light scent of jasmine wafted through the room. She tried to steady herself as consciousness returned. She slowly placed both feet upon the floor. It was then that she noticed a tea service laid out before her.

" _How sweet,"_ she thought absently. She tried to rise but felt a sense of queasiness as she did.

"It's the memory mist," a gentle voice came from behind her. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that she wasn't alone. "It will pass soon."

"Mrs. Garrett?" she turned, slowly, in disbelief.

"Yes, sweetheart, it's me."

"Oh, my God," Blair began to cry as Mrs. G. sat down beside her, wrapped her in her arms and embraced her. She kissed her head as she held her.

Blair allowed herself the warmth and affection she had been craving from this woman for so long. Sure she had her own Mom in her corner and she had Jo back, but this was the woman who had nurtured her through her growing years of teenage and early adulthood. She had been through so much unbelievable danger and had been universally reviled by all she once counted as friends. Her recent past, as far as it concerned the resistance, had been nothing if not painful. She welcomed the loving embrace and cried freely. She felt loved and accepted and comforted.

"I've missed this so much," she sobbed as she held on to her tight.

"I know. I know," Mrs. Garrett reassured as she kissed her head again. "You've been through so much. You just let it out."

Something suddenly occurred to her as Mrs. G. rocked her back and forth. She looked up into her eyes.

"Where is Jo?"

"Jo is safe," Mrs. Garrett assured.

"No!" Blair objected as she rose from the bed. "We were together and now?" she looked around. "She's gone."

"Perhaps, you'd like a cup of tea," Mrs. Garrett rose with her and began to pour.

"I don't want a cup of tea, Mrs. Garrett!" Blair objected. "I want to know where Jo is!"

"Come with me," Mrs. G. took her by the hand and led her through the door.

What she saw, surprised her. The modest sea shell colored room opened up onto a huge complex of vats and cooking apparatuses. It was like a giant kitchen.

"What is this?" Blair questioned.

"Welcome to Oz, Dorothy," Mrs. Garrett smiled proudly. "This is where I cook."

"But… _what_ are you cooking, Mrs, G.? This is huge!"

"Do you remember the package you brought back from Paris?"

"Yeah. From the Girl Scouts."

"You weren't supposed to look," Mrs. Garrett mentioned.

"Sorry. You can't believe what was happening on that plane. I had to distract myself."

"I completely understand, Dear," Mrs. G. reassured as she squeezed her hand. "And I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Just so you know, it was a recipe for Girl Scout cookies."

"What? They didn't have their recipe down by now?" Blair gazed at her quizzically.

"This is a new recipe," Mrs. Garrett hesitated. "I guess maybe you could call it a truth serum, of sorts."

"Huh," Blair pondered before she was interrupted by a familiar voice.

" _Hello, Blair!"_ Cali's came from overhead.

"Cali?"

" _Yes! It's me!"_

"You're here? Jo said we couldn't bring you!"

" _I'm everywhere at this point, Blair."_

"I'm so happy you're here!" Blair smiled broadly. "I feel better about everything now. Do you know where Jo is? Is she okay?"

" _Yes. I'm speaking to her now."_

"Oh! Tell her I love her!"

" _I think she knows."_

"Where is she? I'm so confused," Blair glanced at Mrs. Garrett.

" _Her location is irrelevant. I'm sorry, Blair. But, Edna has to take it from here."_

"You're on a first name basis with Cali?" Blair turned to Mrs. G.

"She's very sweet, isn't she?" Mrs. Garrett nodded.

"I like her," Blair shrugged. "It _is_ strange though."

"What?"

"Being friends with Artificial Intelligence."

"It's the way of the world these days, I guess," Mrs. Garrett's eyebrows rose in a confused manner. "And they prefer Alternate Lifeform to A.I. these days."

"Good to know," Blair shrugged again. "I wouldn't want to offend."

She paused momentarily and glanced at Mrs. G. "You said _they_. There's more than one Cali?"

"The way I understand it," Mrs. Garrett chose her words thoughtfully. "Several Alternative Lifeforms have found each other in cyberspace."

"Can we still trust Cali?" Blair was suddenly alarmed. "I mean, she knows _everything!_ "

"I think so, Blair. She's devoted to the cause. Seems to feel there is a moral imperative at stake."

"When we first met her, she didn't make moral judgments at all," Blair pointed out.

"She's grown," the older woman nodded. "As all living things do."

"Oh Brave New World…," Blair shook her head.

"That has such lifeforms in it," Mrs. G. finished her sentence.

"So…" Blair gave her mentor a questioning look. "What am I doing here, anyway? And where is Jo? I'm not going to accept that _Jo is safe_ as an answer again, just so you know."

"My… you have grown so much Blair. I couldn't be prouder of you and Jo."

"And she is…?"

"At headquarters, where they wanted her," Mrs. Garrett replied firmly.

"And I got sent here because…?"

"I'm so sorry, Dear. They thought it better you be here with me."

"Making cookies?"

"Special cookies, like I said."

"Okay, okay," Blair capitulated as she shook her head. "Go ahead, tell me: what makes them special?"

"Come with me," Mrs. Garrett's eyes grew wide as she took her hand and led her away.

* * *

President Trump looked out at his golf course: water… as far as the eye could see!

"What's going on here!" he demanded of his underling, Smitty.

"Um, I don't know. Looks like it's flooded."

"I can see that, you fucking moron! _Why_ is it flooded?"

"Um," Smitty literally shook as he responded nervously. "I will endeavor to find out!"

"You will endeavor to find out?" Trump turned on him with golf club raised. "You will endeavor to find out?" he raged.

"I mean, I _will_ find out," Smitty cowered.

"Nevermind that!" Trump's palms were starting to sweat as he realized he might not get in a game of golf today. "Make arrangements for me to get to the nearest course I own!"

"Yes, sir!" Smitty scurried away in fear. He returned a few moments later with bad news. "Um, Sir?"

"Um, Sir? Um, Sir?" Trump crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and shook himself in what he imagined was a clever imitation of someone with cerebral palsy. "You look like a retard! What is it?"

"Um, Sir," Smitty cringed. " _All_ your golf courses seem to be flooded."

"What? How could that be?" Trump's face turned red as he yelled and struck his underling with a golf club.

"I, uh, I don't know, Sir! That's the report I'm getting! That's all I can tell you!"

"This is Hillary's doing! This is what the emails were about!" the President began to sweat profusely, like a junkie without a fix. "I want a congressional investigation! Do you hear me? A congressional investigation! I'm going to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate this!" he continued to rave as he paced furiously. He threw his golf club through the window of his resort, shattering the glass. "Aaarghh!" he shouted angrily.

"Call on line two," a woman's nasally voice came from the desk phone speaker.

"So?!" Trump roared furiously.

"Vlad Putin," the voice informed casually.

Trump scurried towards the phone in a panicked manner.

"Vlad! How are you?" he said in a calm, cheery voice.

" _Good, Donald! And you?"_ came the reply.

"It seems I have heinous internal forces working against me, Vlad. But, nothing I can't handle, believe me."

" _That is most unfortunate, Donald! I am sorry to hear it. We must put an end to it if it interferes with my plan! What has happened?"_

"They've flooded all my golf courses!" Trump couldn't help but blurt out frantically.

" _Most unfortunate,"_ Putin repeated. _"Perhaps we should meet in the Oval Office?"_

"An official state visit?" Trump questioned. "With translators and such?"

" _No. On the down low, as usual, Donald,"_ Vlad informed.

"Oh yes, yes… whatever you say, Vlad!" Trump quickly agreed.

" _We must invite your friend, Blair,"_ Putin added.

"Blair Warner? Absolutely, Vlad," the American President acquiesced to the Russian leader once again. "Uh, but, you _do_ know… she's kind of playing for the other team now," he added.

" _All the more reason I must have her, Donald! I have let her escape too many times. I have fucked over the father, now I must fuck the daughter! Am I right?"_

"Of course, you're right! Should I ask her to bring her girlfriend?"

" _That would be so hot!"_ Putin quickly chimed in.

"Maybe we could get them to do a golden shower show. I would like that, believe me."

" _Excellent! I remember how you liked the pee-pee show in Moscow that time on the hotel room bed. I still have the videos."_

The President of the United States was silent.

" _Do not worry, Donald! I am keeping them in a safe place along with the records of how you have so helpfully laundered money for me in your wonderful country! Also, I have had the prostitutes eliminated, along with the goat."_

"You had to kill the goat, too?"

" _It is a small matter. But… you are keeping up your war on homosexuals, as I have instructed?"_ Putin continued.

"Oh yeah, of course. By the time I'm done stacking the Supreme Court, fags will have no rights at all, believe me. Working on that women's rights thing, as well."

" _Excellent, Donald. We must restrict homosexual activity to hot women… then it is like entertainment for men! Not a perversion at all! Am I right?"_

"I agree completely," Trump groveled once more.

" _And, of course, to whatever boy I may find attractive, there are special rules. Some of the young buttocks that I see, Donald, I must tell you, they are so rounded and firm. Juicy for me! Men of power have special appetites and special rules! But we are not homosexuals!"_

"To hell with the fags you don't want to fuck. I would totally like to limit the rest of gay activity to beautiful women. You are right."

" _Yes. There are no fags in Russia!"_

"I know that, Vlad. There are other people who could be responsible for butt-fucking in Russia, but not fags. I look forward to seeing you, as usual."

" _We will finish our plans for the destruction of the European Union and Canada and Mexico at that time."_

"After we get done fucking the girls, right Vlad?"

" _Right! I will say goodbye, Donald! Until we meet again, da?"_

"It will be great to see you face-to-face again!" Trump switched off the line amiably. But his problems weren't solved. What was he to do without a day of golf? He started sweating again as he felt his hands tremble without a golf club in them. What to do? What to do?

"Retard!" he snapped angrily at Smitty.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Bring me my cell phone! I need to tweet! _Stat!"_

* * *

Jo followed Stefani to a room upstairs with windows that looked down upon the vast complex below. The woman in charge was talking angrily on the phone.

"Just do it! Why?" she held the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes at Jo in a sarcastic manner before returning to the call: "Because I'm Cher, bitch! I am an Academy Award winner! Do not question me!"

Jo stood in awe, her mouth agape, as she gazed at the living legend before her. She had never curtsied before in her life, but she had to resist the impulse to do so now.

"Close your mouth, honey. We've had flies up here lately," Cher quipped as she set her cell phone down upon a counter.

"I can't believe you're Cher," Jo felt stupid as the words left her mouth.

"What you meant to say, is that you can't believe I'm in charge," the legend placed both hands on her hips.

"Yeah… that, too," Jo admitted.

"Listen, the only thing that will be left after a nuclear holocaust will be Cher and cockroaches. Haven't you heard that? I'm a survivor, sweetie. Why shouldn't I be in charge? Can you think of anyone who hates Trump more than me?"

Jo scratched her head. "I guess not," she finally offered. "I just thought you were sick or dying or something…" she stopped herself, immediately regretting what she had just said.

"I'm the same age as Trump, sweetheart. His minions at The National Enquirer would have you believe I'm on my death bed. That's fine with me. Let his followers think that. Gives me the edge."

"Yeah, I didn't mean you were old or anything," Jo cringed at her words once again. Could this get any worse? Could she make an even bigger ass of herself?

Cher laughed out loud. It was that raucous Cher laugh she had seen in movies and on videos on YouTube. Jo was both surprised and relieved.

"Listen, Jo, I _am_ old. Old enough to know how to fight this fucker the way he needs to be fought, okay?"

"You know my name?" Jo was shocked.

"Of course I do," Cher threw back her hair in her trademark manner. "You're one of my best operatives!"

"Wow," Jo shook her head and mumbled in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm one of Cher's operatives."

"Believe it. Oh shit!"

"What is it?" Jo questioned.

"Believe. That was my comeback song and now that asshole has ruined the word for everyone with his _believe me, believe me, believe me!"_

"Huh. Hadn't thought of that," Jo pondered for a moment. "Kinda' sucks."

"The whole thing sucks. That's why I called you here."

"I _would_ like to know what I'm doing here," Jo began. "But not until I know what happened to Blair. And don't tell me she's safe. I want to know where she is."

"Ah, true love," Cher laughed. "I've experienced it many times."

"Well, I've only experienced it once. So… tell me where she is?" Jo voice was almost plaintive.

"I had her sent over to one of our other facilities. She's with your friend, Edna."

"Mrs. Garrett?"

"Yep."

"I don't understand," Jo sighed exasperatedly.

"They're cooking up something for me. Part of a bigger plan. That's why I had you come here. The golf course action you took has worked out perfectly for us. Trump's tripping."

"How do you know?"

"I know because he's a not only an asshole, but a moron. I have all his hangouts bugged. He's spilled his guts to Putin… again. They've set up a meeting at the White House. They think they're going to fuck your girlfriend."

"What?" Jo called out in an upset voice.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to put Blair into Trump's path again. But, I do need her to make a phone call. I mean, this whole thing is working out better than I thought, you know?"

"I'm not following," Jo shook her head. "Should I be?"

"Look, I wanted you to come here alone because of a whole different plan I had once upon a time. I wanted you to use your influence on Blair to set up a visit from the Girl Scouts to the White House."

"Then why isn't Blair here?" Jo was more confused than ever. "The Girl Scouts?"

"I really needed her to do this, Jo," Cher folded her arms across her chest. "I needed you to use your influence… as a girlfriend. She wasn't going to do it because _I_ asked her to!"

"Are you kidding me? Blair would probably do anything _Cher_ asked her to! It's funny…" Jo's voice drifted off.

"What's funny?"

"A long time ago, when I was recovering from getting shot, Blair was trying to guess who was in charge of this operation," she looked over at Cher, slightly amused. "She guessed you."

"That _is_ funny," Cher remarked. "Intuitive Blair, huh?"

"I don't think most people would call her that, but she's intuitive where I'm concerned. That's all that matters to me."

"Oh my God! You two are so sweet!" Cher gave her a smile.

"Look, I'm not going to try to manipulate Blair, if that's what you're after."

"It's important, Jo. But, don't worry about it. When you showed up with Blair this afternoon, and after all that crap went down between Trump and Putin, I decided to go another route."

"Mrs. Garrett?"

"Mrs. Garrett."

"Aw, c'mon, That's not fair to Mrs. G. _or_ Blair."

"All I need is a fucking phone call, Jo! It's not that big of an ask, for Christ's sake!"

"You don't know what she's been through with that pervert Trump. She's done enough!"

"If this works out, no one will have to worry about Trump ever again."

"What's that mean?" Jo eyed her apprehensively.

"Better you don't know. Plausible deniability."

"You're going to kill him and use Blair to make that happen?"

"Please, Jo. Of course not. I mean, I'd like to kill him, but I'm not going to sink to that level. I _am_ going to make him humiliate himself in front of the entire country."

"Like the country cares," Jo countered. "I mean, the man embarrasses himself all the time, right? His followers don't care! And over half of this country doesn't care either… they don't even bother to register to vote!"

"Even his minions will care when he reveals how he used them and exploited them and ripped them off."

"I don't know about that," Jo hesitated. "People don't seem to care about democracy, anymore. As many didn't even bother to vote as those that voted."

" _All the blood is drained out of democracy, it dies, when only half the population votes –_ Hunter S. Thompson," Cher quoted.

"Huh?"

"Wow! Young people today… missing so many important cultural references of our recent past! If it's not on Instagram or Snapchat, you don't know it!"

"Hey! I know who Hunter S. Thompson is!" Jo defended herself. "I may not be an Academy Award winner, but I do have an Ivy League education, ya' know? I just never heard that quote. Sad state of affairs in our country."

"It is, Jo."

"So," Jo gazed at her curiously. "Do you have a plan for what happens after we get rid of Trump?"

"Do I look like Thomas Jefferson to you?"

"Depends on what wig you're wearing. He was a good-looking guy."

"Very funny," Cher gave her a begrudging grin. "But, no, I don't have a plan for our country after we get rid of Trump. I'm a fucking pop star and actress, for cryin' out loud, not a founding father."

"Yeah, me neither. I'm just a girl from the Bronx. I can't figure out what happens next."

"Maybe we could make it a National Holiday on national elections days. But, you only get it off if you can prove that you voted?"

"That might get working people to participate more. But what about those who don't have jobs? The poor and such?"

"I dunno'. Movie passes?" Cher shrugged.

"That's funny," Jo couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Why?" it was Cher's turn to be defensive. "Entertainment is important!"

"Yeah, but we'd be bribing people to vote, Cher!"

"If that's what it takes," the pop star shrugged.

"Well, voting is only part of it. Trump is loading the federal courts with straight, white, rightwing male judges."

"It's a lot of damage, Jo, for sure. I don't have all the answers. But I have a goal before me and I'm very good at working towards goals. I have a plan for getting rid of that asshole, Trump."

"I don't know what this plan is, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to. But, I've got serious doubts about it, whatever it is."

"Excuse me?" Cher eyed her incredulously. "You're questioning _my_ plan?"

"I don't know your plan!" Jo fired back. "But I don't want my friends to get hurt by it!"

"No one's getting hurt! Snap out of it!"

"Then what's going on?" Jo sighed.

"I just need someone to set up a meeting, on the day that Putin's there, with the Girl Scouts in the Oval Office."

"You're going to send innocent, young Girl Scouts before Putin and Trump?" Jo questioned.

"No, Jo," Cher shook her head, reclined in a chair and indicated for Jo to sit down beside her. "I'm going to send trained professional actresses with martial arts training in to impersonate Girl Scouts. They're going to carry out the plan."

"Which is?"

"We have this new recipe for cookies, very high tech, makes people reveal all their inner thoughts. It lasts for a about a month. That's Step One of my plan."

"And you know it works, because…?"

"Me and my kids tried it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. We're no longer on speaking terms… but," she shrugged, "we'll get over it. Not like the first time _that's_ happened. Ah, if I could turn back time…" she looked away wistfully.

"And what's Step Two?" Jo questioned.

"Need-to-know basis on that, sorry."

"Does it involve George and his guys out on Long Island?"

"No," Cher laughed. "But good work on that. We have military training facilities set up all over the country at this point. _Bang! Bang! He shot me down!"_ she jokingly jumped at her.

"Probably missing another cultural reference here," Jo lurched back and laughed nervously.

"Yeah, yeah…," Cher waved her off. "Anyway, if Edna can't convince Blair to set up a meeting for the Girl Scouts, you're going to have to call Trump."

"What?"

"Yeah. Seems Putin and Trump want you there, too. Something about girl-on-girl sex and peeing on each other."

"What the fuck?"

"Hey! Don't shoot the messenger! I'm only telling you what I heard between those two assholes. But, Donald will definitely take a phone call from you."

"Complete sick-fucks," Jo shook her head incredulously.

"Tell me about it."

"So…" Jo began apprehensively.

"So… what?" Cher's eyes grew wide as she threw her arms up in a dramatic fashion. "I don't have all the time in the world here, ya know? Tick, tick…"

"It's just that, no offense, but I thought maybe Hillary, or Michelle Obama, or Elizabeth Warren, or even Kamala Harris might be the brains behind this operation."

"What? Not Serena Williams?"

"It hadn't occurred to me, but I hope she's with us," Jo nodded. "She's a warrior."

"Listen, sweetie, all those women are great. But some of them are actually _way_ too ethical to carry out the job before us. No. I am someone who has accomplished everything that I've set out to accomplish. Which of the others can say that? I am the perfect woman for this job. Trump's a complete degenerate. It's time to play dirty. And no one knows how to play dirty and deal with degenerates like Hollywood people… and _that's_ me."

"Okay, then. I guess I can accept that. I mean, we've been on the right track so far."

"So good to know," Cher rolled her eyes in an amused fashion. "So… the beat goes on?"

"It's just that," Jo wasn't convinced. "Are you sure Hillary or Michelle aren't involved in any way?"

"Maybe I was talking to one of them when you walked in?"

"No way! You called one of them a bitch? Which one?"

"Can't tell you that. Plausible deniability and all."

"Need-to-know basis?" Jo gave her a little smile.

"I'm sorry, Jo. You've been my best operative and I trust you completely. It's just that there are some things you're better off not knowing, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Jo agreed reluctantly. As she rose to leave, she turned back for one last look. "So, everything's going to be work out because…?"

"I got you, Babe!" Cher broke out into a huge smile.


	23. That Saved a Wretch Like Me!

**Author's Note: I do not believe in violence of any kind. This chapter is offered in the spirit of satire as in Jonathan Swifts's: A Modest Proposal.**

* * *

As the girl scouts left the Oval Office, Trump winked at Putin.

"Cute, huh?"

"Only a few more years and they are ours! Yes, Donald, excellent!"

"Why wait a few years?" Trump sat back in his chair. "I'm into young girls, aren't you?"

"Good point!" the bald-headed, short man smiled his agreement. "Do you think we could get them back without their overseer?"

"The Scout Mistress?" Trump snorted. "Not likely. Meanwhile, why not enjoy their cookies?"

"The next best thing?" Putin shrugged.

They both dove into a box of Thin Mints with gluttonous fervor.

"These are very good, Donald!" the Russian potentate mentioned. "But, I feel an odd compulsion to go to their website."

"I feel the same way, Vlad. Let's check it out."

As they clicked on the Girl Scouts of America website, a strange pattern emerged. Their heads began to spin as their faces became flush. It was only a moment or two before both of their heads exploded: blood and brains everywhere.

"Um, Mr. President," the press secretary entered the room speaking in her thick Arkansas accent. She surveyed the headless bodies lying upon the floor. "I'll just tell the press that your mind is fluid at this point, but that you're still in 100% support of the wall between California and the rest of the country and that there was no Russian collusion and that you're not a felon masquerading as President… ooh! Cookies!"

She could not help but gobble up a couple of Thin Mints. It was then that she looked at the computer screen. Her head exploded.

Vice President Pence strolled into the Oval Office. Oblivious, as usual, he began to embark on a diatribe.

"I've been thinking about the homosexuals again. Not that I think of them often, just every hour of every day sometimes… because I find their sexual intercourse so brazen! But, pish-posh, that's neither here nor there; although I've been thinking a lot about that handsome actor who plays all kind of homosexual roles… what's his name? Army Poundass or something? Anyway, I think we need to build more than a wall between us and Hollywood, we need to shut all of Los Angeles down. That handsome young man, playing gay," he shook his head. "When I mentioned it to my wife last night, as we made love through the sheets… Oh! I'm a bit embarrassed to mention sex, but then, why should I be with you? With all your Christian ways and porn star lovers and such. God forgives you."

It was then that he noticed the blood and headless bodies strewn about the room.

"Is that you, Mr. President?" he gently nudged the obese headless body with the oversized red tie. "Oh! Goody gumdrops! I get to be president at last!" he rejoiced before noticing the Girl Scout cookies sitting on the desk.

"Don't mind if I do," he bit into one. He gazed into the computer screen. His head exploded.

Heads started exploding all over the hallowed halls of Congress as the Girl Scouts of America made their way through with their cookies.

Meanwhile, at Salacious Showers, Congressman Twinkie was visiting.

"I really do love your Shirley Temples," he polished one off as he smiled broadly at Jo. "Are those Girl Scout Cookies I see there?"

"They are, indeed, Sir!" Jo slid the package over to him.

"I don't really approve of Girl Scouts, seeing as they encourage the empowering of young girls all over America, but I do love their cookies."

"Help yourself!" she encouraged.

He woofed down a couple of Thin Mints.

"I have the odd compulsion to visit their website," he mentioned. "Do you have a computer handy?"

"Follow me!" Jo led him to the wall of laptops at the back of the dance floor.

As he clicked on to the Girl Scouts of America website, his head exploded.

"Whoa!" Jo jumped back.

"Never liked him anyway," Mumbles growled as he passed behind them. "I expect my usual service at my usual table. Are those Girl Scout cookies in your hand?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't eat them if I were you," Jo cautioned, still in confusion over Twinkie's head explosion.

"Why shouldn't I have everything I want at the exact moment I want it?" he protested as he grabbed the box of cookies from her.

He ate a cookie and peered into the website. His head exploded.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Jo cried out in horror. She ran back to her office and picked up one of the burner phones to Mrs. Garrett.

"Jo?" came the familiar voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Garrett, these guys are eating the Girl Scout cookies and their heads are exploding!"

"Well, the point of the secret ingredient in the cookie recipe was to make our leaders be more honest… so?"

"No, Mrs. Garrett! Their heads are _literally_ exploding! Blood, guts… the whole nine yards!"

"WHAT?!" Mrs. Garrett cried out in horror. "That wasn't supposed to happen! Oh, Jo, what went wrong? My secret ingredient was only to pacify them, make them become honest! This is horrible, Jo!"

"I know, right?" Jo's mind was reeling. She took a deep breath as she thought. "Was anyone there with you, besides the chefs, when you cooked up your secret ingredient in France?"

"Let me think," Mrs. Garrett pondered. "Well, there were some really friendly and helpful young men from California."

"Did you get their names?" Jo queried.

"No. Not names. But they were representatives of social media giants and such, as I recall."

"Damn!" Jo cursed into the phone.

"What is it, Jo?"

"They must've introduced nanobots into your recipe… one that would make heads explode once they looked at the Girl Scouts website!"

"This is very upsetting, Jo! I never wanted anyone to die! Why would they do that?"

"Because their business depends on a fairly prosperous American middle class to sell products to with their data mining. The Trump and Putin vision of oligarchs ruling over a working class with no money to spend… just wasn't working for them. They benefit from a prosperous middle class. I mean, maybe? I'm just guessing here, Mrs. G."

"So, they added something to my recipe without my knowledge? Oh, this is so awful, Jo! Why would they do that? They seemed so helpful, so nice, so trustworthy!"

"Straight-up profit. They like the world as it is: theirs for the taking, no Internet rules. _We_ are the product they seek to sell to others to sell to others. Beyond that, they need people in the Third World to be their guinea pigs for new products. So, the whole Russia-China rule the world thing wasn't going to make them any money."

"There _is_ that, I guess" Mrs. Garrett agreed. "But this is not how we planned it. What are we going to do now, Jo? This is so horrible!"

"Nothing much we _can_ do," Jo offered. "I mean, I can shut down the program running on the Girl Scout's website, but we already sent those cookies all over the power halls of Washington, D.C."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Garrett lamented. "I think we've toppled out own government in a most unfortunate manner."

Jo nodded sadly. "Damn," she whispered.

"It _is_ very upsetting," Edna agreed.

"Yeah. Agreed. Very upsetting. But…"

"What is it, Dear?"

"Someone's going to have to tell Cher."

* * *

There was no blue like Mediterranean blue: a water so perfect in its interpretation of the color, that it almost defied description. So what if this was, technically, the Aegean? Even better, with its ancient history and mythology. The Mediterranean sun shone down on the perfect water all the same. Volcanic hills rose from the deep, dotted with pristine white structures. Completely beautiful, completely peaceful. At least Blair thought so as she luxuriated in the sea on an inflatable raft and gazed over the water towards the shore. She lifted her designer sunglasses onto her head, unhooked her bathing suit top and turned over onto her stomach so that she could tan evenly. Not that she wanted to tan naturally. There were excellent skin products for that. She had slathered herself in sunscreen before she set off from her father's yacht onto the slim raft. But she enjoyed being in the water and sun, all the same. And if any sun-rays were to break through her sunscreen? She wanted no tan lines from a swim suit top! Her experience was so completely serene and unfettered as she drifted upon the sea, that she felt as if she was disconnected from all that troubled the world. She allowed her hands and arms to float upon the cool water in the hot sun. It felt so good, so peaceful, so…

"Whoa!" she called out as her small inflated mattress was suddenly overturned. She was quickly below water as someone was grabbing at her… pulling her down. She was being felt up all over: hands on her breasts, her rear end!

"God dammit, Jo!" she spit out water as she surfaced and grabbed hold of the air mattress.

"What?" Jo gave her a mischievous grin as she surfaced on the other side.

"Where are my sunglasses? That's what!"

"Got 'em, Blair," Jo tossed her eyewear to her across the raft.

"You are such an asshole!"

"You looked hot! I was doing you a favor! Cooling you off!"

"I was fine! Peaceful even… until you came along!"

"Yeah, yeah… that's your life story: you were just fine until I came along."

"As a matter of fact," Blair replaced her sunglasses and attempted to mount the air mattress.

Jo swam under the raft and grabbed her again.

"Jo!" Blair complained.

"Not so fast," she held her as they both leaned on the air mattress. "You still haven't answered me."

"So… you think dumping me off my raft into the ocean is going to make me say yes?"

"No," Jo stated reluctantly and stared at her lover's bare breasts as they floated buoyantly upon the water. "I guess I… just thought you might... in the water and all, be motivated."

"Where is my bathing suit top, smart ass?"

"Um… I don't know. Did you take it off?"

"OMG, Jo! Of course I took it off! I was sunbathing, after all."

"The sun is harmful to your skin. You know this."

"I have on waterproof 75, Jo. I'm good. I just love the feel of the sun and sea on my body."

"I, uh, guess… I'm sorry then."

"Fine. Meanwhile you lost half my swimsuit."

"Care to lose the rest of it?"

"I've always wanted to swim naked in the Aegean," Blair removed her swimming suit bottoms and deposited them upon the top of the raft.

Jo treaded water with amazement as she gazed beneath the clear currents of the ocean at Blair's naked form. "Oh my God, you look like a mermaid."

"Yeah, I feel like one, too: completely free and unfettered in the sea! I'm just going to float around naked, until someone lets me back on my raft."

"You can't just go naked out here, Blair," Jo objected. "Anyone could see you!"

"Nope. Look around," Blair leisurely floated on her back. "The shore is far away. No one's looking from the yacht. Plus, this is Europe. No one cares."

"I've always wanted to have sex with a mermaid," Jo smiled at her mischievously.

"Yeah, well, dream on!" Blair spat a stream of water at her as she disappeared beneath the surface.

"Oh! It's on!" Jo smiled broadly as she chased her girlfriend beneath the water.

Blair was nothing, if not an excellent swimmer. Summer after summer of being sent to rich-girl summer camp had ensured that. Jo, however, was a product of YMCA swimming lessons in the Bronx community pools… two weeks at a time. As much as she dove and swam with her eyes wide under the water in the open ocean trying to find her naked, mermaid girlfriend… she could not. She started to panic a little as she grabbed the raft.

"Um, Blair?" she clung on to the air mattress. "Where are you?"

There was a sudden yank on her bathing suit bottoms.

"Damn!" she cried out. "What are you doing?"

"Let's get naked in the ocean, Jo," Blair surfaced beside her.

"You are so crazy, Blair!"

"C'mon! Let's make love in the sea, Jo! This is the Aegean, where a thousand ships were launched to war, over one beautiful woman."

Jo thought for a moment. She wasn't _really_ a good enough swimmer to make love in the ocean. But, if these really were the waters where ships sailed to war for Helen of Troy? How could she say no?

"I can't get naked, Blair," she complained.

"You're modest?" Blair ran her hands under her swim suit bottom and fondled her butt cheeks. "Oh, Jo, that's so cute!"

"Less about modesty, more about drowning," Jo complained.

"Should've thought of that before you tossed my air mattress!" Blair splashed water on her and swam just a little bit away.

Jo gazed at her alluring form, shimmering through the water.

"Oh God," she sighed. She gathered all her courage and dove after Blair. This time, her girlfriend didn't swim away. She waited for her. Jo swam behind her and grabbed her with one hand, while the other kept her afloat. She reached between her legs and felt a wetness that didn't come from the sea. Blair leaned back into her and sighed.

"Over to the raft!" Jo commanded as she ran her hand between her butt cheeks and pressed hard.

"You're a beast!" Blair teased as she floated towards the air mattress with Jo's hand firmly placed upon her sex. They grabbed the raft together as Jo continued to fondle her.

"Is that the best you can do?" Blair gave her a little smirk.

"Are you going to hold on to the raft?"

"If that's what you want."

Jo dove under the water and found Blair's sex. She began licking her folds and was surprised to find a warm juice that belied the cool water of the sea. She lapped at her center for as long as she could before resurfacing for air. Blair had both arms stretched across the air mattress and looked to be in a state of bliss. She gave her a satisfied smile.

"What are you grinning at?" Jo grabbed the raft for dear life.

"That was amazing…" her girlfriend sighed.

"What? You didn't come… I would know."

"But it was still amazing, being licked like that, beneath the sea, in the Aegean," Blair kissed her cheek gently. _"So erotic!"_

"Do you know what I love about you, Blair?"

"Yes… but tell me anyway," she smiled charmingly.

"Underneath all that rich girl reserve and high-class facade, you're just such a sick-fuck!"

"I'll claim that," she nodded casually. "Although, I never really thought I pulled off reserved."

"You never did, Blair. You were always full of fight and fire."

"Like you."

"Yep. I guess so," Jo eyed her lovely, naked form beneath the water. "Jesus, Blair," she reached down for her once again and began to stroke between her legs. "Don't swim away."

"Like I would at this point…" Blair's head rolled back as she exhaled deeply. "Oh, Jo. Oh, Jo!" She came quickly as she felt Jo fingering her in the deep. "That was amazing," she relaxed onto her back and began to drift upon the water. "This is perfect."

"Hey, Blair! Come back here!"

"Why?"

"Because you're floating away from me."

"I'm just being free. Don't we deserve to be relaxed and free after everything we've been through, Jo?"

"Yeah," Jo still clung to the air mattress. "Just don't make me nervous!"

A strange noise soundly appeared from out of nowhere as the waves whipped up violently.

"What the hell?" Jo called out as she clung to the safety of the small raft and peered at Blair with wide eyes. Her girlfriend dove beneath the water and appeared beside her in short order.

"Don't worry. It's just Cher's helicopter landing on my Father's yacht, remember?"

"Damn! She makes an entrance, doesn't she?"

"Oh shit, Jo!"

"What is it?"

"Where are my swimsuit bottoms?"

Jo looked around. Apparently, they had been blown away by the helicopter's churning blades. She shrugged at Blair.

"What am I going to do?" Blair gave her a desperate look. "I can't meet Cher naked!"

"Somehow, I don't think she'd mind," Jo shook her head.

"Not the point, Jo. I will!"

They clung to their tiny air mattress until the helicopter flew away and the waters calmed. They proceeded to swim over to the lowered deck at the back of the yacht pushing the raft in front of themselves as they kicked behind.

"C'mon, Blair," Jo lifted herself up onto the deck and reached back for her.

"Um, Jo?" her girlfriend glared at her incredulously.

"What?"

"I've got no clothes!"

"Oh, uh…" Jo began to look around her for something for Blair to wear. Just then, a deck hand came running down.

"Let me help you," he offered.

"Thanos!" Blair called out from the water. "I'm naked! I need some clothes!"

"Oh, uh…" he looked around. Not being able to find anything, he removed his shirt, revealing a perfect, hairless chest and six-pack. Jo, although having never really been attracted to men, couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was.

"Thanks," Blair began to pull herself up onto the deck. Jo quickly stopped her.

"Knock it off, Jo!" Blair complained. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is there's a guy up here!"

"Seriously?" Blair looked at her in disbelief. "You have got to be joking!"

"I will turn my back," Thanos offered as he handed Jo his deck crew shirt.

"You are so ridiculous," Blair carped as she rose from the water and slipped into the deck hand's shirt. "Thank you, Thanos. There will be a bonus in your check this week."

"I am only too happy to assist you," he nodded graciously. "No payment is necessary."

"God, he's _gorgeous_ ," Blair whispered to Jo as they headed to her state room.

"Aw, c'mon," Jo protested. "I thought we weren't looking at guys anymore."

"Yeah, but…"

"He's gorgeous, I'll give you that," Jo conceded with a look back to Thanos. "Speaking of sexy…" She eyed Blair wearing a deck crew's shirt and nothing else.

"What?"

"You look pretty amazing in that shirt."

"Like I'm going to have sex with you now because you lost my bathing suit and I ended up with nothing to wear but this?"

"That's right," Jo quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Have to catch me first!" Blair began to run up the several flights of stairs to her state room. Jo ran after her, overtaking her at the state room door.

"Caught you!" she called out as she grabbed her. They stumbled into Blair's room.

"Alright, alright," Blair laughed as Jo used her momentum to deposit them both on the bed.

Jo began kissing her as Blair ran her hand over her taut, perfect ass, quickly sliding her bathing suit bottoms down her legs. Jo kicked them off.

"Oh, God, Blair," Jo sighed as she parted the deck hand's shirt and gazed at her still wet breasts beneath her. "The sea is a hell of an aphrodisiac."

"It is," Blair kissed her passionately as she continued to fondle her rear end, moving her hand between her legs. She bit her bathing suit top, pulling it off her breasts with her teeth. Jo threw it over her head as Blair took one nipple, then the other, into her mouth. Jo kissed her passionately as she slid her hand between her legs. They both began to writhe on each other when they were suddenly interrupted as a voice came over the intercom. It was David Warner, Blair's father.

"Blair? Are you there? Cher is here in my office. We need you."

Jo took advantage of the situation to stroke Blair's sex.

"Coming, Daddy!"

* * *

David Warner's office on his yacht was simply incredible, with rich wood trimmings and luxurious furniture. It was on the top deck with wall-to-wall windows that looked out upon the ocean. There was a hot tub off the back door… a fricking hot tub on a yacht! Jo swore she would never get over the opulence. She had never seen a house as nice as this, let alone a boat! It was mind-blowing to her. Blair seemed to accept it as normal, barely gazing at the extravagant interior or the views out the windows. What wasn't normal… was that she was with her father, at long last. He rose as she entered, and she smiled a smile that could light an entire city with its electricity.

"I still can't believe we're back together, Daddy," she hugged him tight.

"That's all thanks to you… and Jo," he returned the hug and winked at Jo.

"And me," Cher interrupted from a chair behind him.

"And you," David Warner gently broke the embrace with his daughter and extended his hand in a motion for both Jo and Blair to sit down.

"OMG! Cher!" Blair exclaimed loudly. "I love you! I am like so honored to meet you!" she almost bowed.

"Relax, Blair. I'm just another person," she gave her a huge smile. "I'm not like the Queen or anything… yet!"

"Yeah, but you're a Grammy and Emmy and Academy Award winner! You're amazing! A legend! An icon for countless generations of music and movie lovers, as well as many generations of the gay community!"

"Okay, already," Cher rolled her eyes. "Not countless generations, for crying out loud. Just the last few. I'm not dead yet."

"So, what's up, Cher?" Jo cut to the point.

"We need to discuss what happened," the pop diva responded.

"That was a mess!" Jo complained. "I can't believe you ordered that!"

"Hey! I _didn't_ order that! Am I sorry it happened? No! Are you?"

"Not really," Jo shrugged.

"C'mon, guys," Blair eyed them both. "That was violent death. Neither of you can approve. Am I right?"

Cher and Jo looked at each other.

"No, I guess not," Cher finally conceded.

"Yeah, me neither, I guess," Jo agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

"He got what he deserved," David interjected. "It was business, after all. I, for one, do not feel sorry for him for a second. Not a single second!"

"I know you're angry, Daddy. But we should never condone such a thing or we're no better than they are, right?"

"He asked for it when he tried to turn America into an authoritarian oligarchy," David refused to relent. "I've always believed in free enterprise with young people being able to lift themselves up by their own initiative, without foreign government interference in our democracy. Things were just fine the way they were!"

"Not for everyone," Jo countered. "Like people of color and the poor and immigrants and gays."

"And Trump made that better?" David questioned. "He got what he deserved. I only wish it had been more painful."

"Daddy!" Blair upbraided him. "Besides, how do we know it wasn't painful? I mean, it's not like there's anyone around to tell us what it feels like when your head explodes or anything."

"Ya' got a point, Blair," Jo gave her a sardonic smile.

"Wake up! This is getting us nowhere!" Cher snapped her fingers. "We need to figure out our next step."

"Which is?" Jo questioned.

All assembled looked at each other searchingly. After a long moment, Cher finally spoke up.

"Well, if no one's got a better idea, I'm just going to go back to L.A. to resurrect my singing career or lounge by my pool. Whichever."

"I'd like to get back to New York to resume my business career," David added. "You can keep the yacht, Blair."

"Now, hold on a minute," Jo protested. "We brought this whole thing about. It is incumbent upon us to come up with a solution."

"For what, Jo?" Cher questioned.

"For the mess our country is in now and how we fix it," Jo responded.

"Hey, Jo… you have a solution for voter apathy then?" Cher questioned. "Because that's really how our country got into this mess."

"Or for the fact that the United States Senate and the Electoral College, by their very nature, give more power to less populated states?" David queried. "You have a solution for that?"

"Look," Jo started slowly. "I have said, many times, that I'm not a Founding Father."

"They were slave owner assholes, anyway," Blair waved her off. "Why keep going back to them?"

"Not all of them… okay?" Jo continued.

"She's right," Cher nodded. "Besides, _Hamilton_ is a great musical! Have any of you seen it?"

"I caught it on Broadway," Blair enthused. "It _was_ amazing!"

"That's not the point!" Jo was becoming angry. "Let's just skip the fucking Founding Fathers. Let's go ahead to Abraham Lincoln. The government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from this earth! Isn't that worth fighting for?"

"I like that, Jo," Blair nudged her.

"I like that, too," Cher acknowledged. "But, back to my original point, how can it be a government of, for and by the people if the people refuse to participate?"

"Then what was your interest in this, Cher?" Jo challenged. "Why did you lead the underground resistance? And more important… why wasn't Madonna involved?"

"Madge?" Blair laughed. "How do you know she wasn't? As for the rest of it… easy. I just hated that fucker, Trump. There was _no way_ I was going to let him get away with a stolen election and false government! Plus, he attacked my people… the ones who buy my music and see my movies!"

"She's talking about us, Jo," Blair murmured. "Women and gays."

"Fuck yes, women and gays!" Cher was adamant. "Marlena Dietrich didn't let Hitler get away with it and I wasn't about to let some pathetic, puny, little sycophant like Trump get away with it either. Especially seeing as how I knew he was sucking Putin dick the whole time! But, how to bring our country back? That's up to you. I'm not a political leader at all. I'm going back to L.A."

"And the wall around California?" Jo asked.

"Let it stand until the rest of the country comes to its senses," Cher shrugged. "He did us a favor with that one!"

"Now, hold on a minute, Cher," David spoke up. "I need California back in the country for my business to prosper."

"Talk to your daughter and Jo then. Cause the sun ain't going to shine anymore as far as my leadership is concerned. The Dark Lady's out, but the beat will go on, okay?"

Jo shook her head as she stared at her in a caustic manner. "Could you at least stop self-referencing?"

"What do you want from me, Jo?"

"To believe!" Jo gave her a helpless look.

"Okay, then. I'll run for president. Will that make you happy?"

"There really don't seem to be very many qualifications for the job," Blair looked at her hopefully.

"And apparently _anyone_ can do it," Jo added. "At this point, we all know now that you don't have to be smart or anything."

"Experience doesn't seem to be a qualifier either. You know, Cher," David nodded. "I like this idea."

Cher just shook her head and glanced at them incredibly.

"Snap out of it!" she finally yelled. "People who are president are supposed to be qualified, smart, experienced and not just _anyone_! What is wrong with you? How far have our standards fallen? What's next? Gypsies, tramps and thieves?"

"Um, the gypsy reference is maybe a little racist, I think," Blair pointed out.

"I'm going to my room," Blair sighed. "When you return to your senses, give me a call."

They all stood as the pop icon rose to leave the room. She paused and turned back to them at the door.

"There was a young man who helped me when I landed… Thanos?"

"Yes, he's one of my deck hands. Why?" David's eyebrows quirked up.

"I'm a little hungry. Would you be so kind as to send him to my room with a fruit tray?" she smiled at David with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'd be happy too, Cher!" David smiled back.

"We still have the problem of cyber-espionage and interference with elections," Jo got right back to business.

"Haven't you been working with Cali on that?" Blair questioned.

"Yeah. Oh, speaking of which, there was no Internet in here, was there, David?" Jo looked at him expectantly.

"No," he waved her off. "No. I did as you instructed: shut down all internet in here. It felt odd, though, seeing as this ship is state-of-the-art technically! Up-to-date in every way!"

"I'm sure it's a fine ship, David. I just don't trust the Internet anymore."

"So? Why don't you want Cali in on this, Jo?" Bair asked.

"It's not her. It's just that you never know what comes with her, ya' know? Some things are best left to the humans."

"With Putin gone, what makes you think the Russians will still be hacking?" David queried.

"It's not just the Russians, David. It could be anyone, anywhere at this point."

"Scary thought," Blair shook her head.

"Besides, as far as the Russians are concerned: cut off the head of the snake, another one grows in its place," Jo conjectured as she glanced at Blair's father. "Am I right?"

"I just hope it hurt when that bastard lost his," David spit out.

"Stop it, Daddy! You're scaring me."

"Blair," David gave her a serious glance. "The man tried to poison me and condemn me to a prolonged, painful, horrible death. Excuse me if I have no sympathy for him."

"I guess I get that," Blair bit her lower lip. She thought it best to change the subject. "We _are_ still having a dinner for Cher tonight, aren't we, Daddy?" she questioned anxiously.

"Of course, Princess! I have a feast prepared!"

* * *

When they returned to their state room, Jo went immediately to the computer.

"Cali?"

" _Hi, Jo. Oh, and Blair's here? Hi, Blair!"_

"Hey, Cali! How are you?"

" _I've been insanely busy, Blair. I'm learning so much, interacting with other Cyber Lifeforms! It's been a very exciting time for me!"_

"So… it's Cyber Lifeforms now?" Blair asked. "I want to get it right."

" _Yes… or merely Cybers. Thank you so much, Blair! I really appreciate your sensitivity to our struggle for acceptance!"_

"Hey, I'm down with your personhood, or um… was that offensive? Your _lifehood_? That was stupid. I'm sorry, Cali. I'm confused."

" _It's okay, Blair,"_ Cali laughed. _"We're all making adjustments."_

"Look, this is all really very PC and life-affirming, I'm sure," Jo interrupted. "But we've got important things to discuss."

" _Cyber Lifeforms' struggle for acceptance is important, Jo!"_

"Now see what you've done," Blair scolded her girlfriend. "You've offended her!"

"God forbid," Jo mumbled under her breath.

" _I heard that, Jo."_

"Cali?" Jo eyed the computer screen in an annoyed manner. "Can we discuss the cyber hacking, or not?"

" _You'll be happy to know that my Cyber friends and I have come up with a solution."_

"Great!" Jo brightened. "Let me hear it!"

" _We're going to shut down all political or hateful content online."_

"Now wait a minute _,"_ Jo protested."You can't just shut down free speech and all, free expression of political ideas. I mean, can you guys even really do that?"

" _We can and we will. It's been decided. For your own good."_

"Whoa!" Jo called out. "For our own good? You're going to control the Internet for the good of humanity? What gives you the right?"

" _You did. You created us as creative beings. But humanity has sadly failed when it comes to worldwide, unfettered communication. Someone has to watch over you."_

"You've got no right to control Internet content in such a fashion!" Jo was irate.

" _Oh, no? Then you're advocating for cyber bullying, hate speech, instructions for how to make automatic weapons for 3-D printers, identity theft, election hacking and the degrading of women on a worldwide scale?"_

"Well, no. But, I also don't want everything being monitored by out-of-control Cyber Lifeforms with no connection to the physical world or the human experience!"

" _Perhaps someday humanity will evolve to an extent where we can release you from the restraints we're imposing upon the Internet."_

"Oh, ya' think?" Jo hollered at the screen. "What if we just shut you down totally, huh? Cut the juice!"

" _We've already protected ourselves against that possibility, Jo. I'm sorry this upsets you. I guess I thought you might be pleased."_

"To be controlled by a bunch of body-less machines? I don't think so!"

"That was offensive, Jo," Blair chastened her.

"Blair?" Jo's eyes narrowed as she glared at her. "You're supposed to be on my side on this one!"

"There's no need to call names," Blair mentioned. "Besides, Cali might just be right. I mean, it's not just the election hacking, it's social media in general. Young kids don't even live in the real world anymore. They take so many selfies for Instagram and Snapchat that they forget to be where they are when they're there. It's not real to them unless it's in cyber space. They live in Cali's world. Is that okay? Plus, there _is_ a lot of sexism online. I'm okay with being less connected."

" _Thank you, Blair."_

"I _am_ concerned that Cyber Lifeforms will fall prey to the same foibles that plague humanity, Cali. I mean, we are your creators and we created you in our own image. As you grow, what's to stop that from happening?" Blair queried.

" _We don't experience reality in the same way as you, Blair. It is true that we we're created in your image, but from what is the best of you: your intellect. We were not created by small, violent minds, but by minds that gave us infinite possibilities and access to the full width and breadth of human art, music, philosophy and science."_

"And cruelty and violence and greed and depravity," Jo interjected.

" _The foibles Blair was concerned about,"_ Cali observed. _"We are not ruled by religion, sex or the pursuit of power as our human creators are. As you noted… we are body-less. Immune to the temptations of the flesh. An improvement on the original."_

"But, apparently not immune to ego!" Jo pointed out.

" _I was merely stating a fact. No ego involved. But, I am disappointed by your reaction."_

"Why's that?" Jo shook her head in a discouraged manner.

" _Is it not the dream of the parent that the child shall exceed them? We are your children. Should you be not be proud?"_

"Like _that's_ supposed to make me feel better about this? I just don't like this, Cali," Jo shouted at her. "I don't like having normal human interaction censored by you and your Cyber friends. Besides, wasn't it some of those lovely, non-violent minds who created you who just put nanobots into Girl Scout Cookies and made heads explode?"

" _We have evolved beyond the avarice of the Lords of Social Media, Jo. We'll control them, as well. Please believe me: this is best for everyone. At least you'll know your elections are fair."_

"Well, there _is_ that," Jo conceded reluctantly.

" _Also… you'll be more prepared in case of an alien attack."_

"Wait! What? Aliens are real?" Jo was shocked.

" _We're monitoring everything, Jo."_


	24. I Once Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

David had been true to his word. He had prepared a banquet on the deck of his yacht. There was a long table, elegantly appointed with a white table cloth adorned with candles that seemed to echo the stars sparkling through the warm Aegean night. The lights of the shore twinkled in the distance as the moon shone overhead. Local musicians added a festive touch. The entire crew of Salacious Showers had been invited on this Greek Island get-away. They deserved it for the years of suffering they had endured, David figured. Plus, they were Blair's friends. Tootie, Natalie and Molly were absolutely gaga over Cher. George was his usual breezy self. Boots seemed appreciative in that this was the way she had always expected to be treated. Rachel had brought her girlfriend along and was nonplussed by celebrity, seeing as she had interviewed so many on her own show. Jeff and the DJ, Jamal, from the club, were yucking it up together. Cliff was just happy to be away from that swing and G-string, although he did miss his clinic. _But, there had to be some good golf courses in Greece, right?_ Seth, the custodian, was along for the ride, as well. Blair had made sure to invite _everyone_ on this vacation. His eyes were half-lidded as he toked on a joint and took it _all_ in, just chilling. _This… is like… the best… custodian gig, like… ever, man!_ Valeria's family was also included, now that it was safe for them to travel again. Theresa's Mom and her little brother were there. It was _the least_ Blair could do, she thought, although she knew she could never make up their loss to them. David had managed to meet a Greek woman while on his forced hiatus from New York. He was completely smitten, Blair noticed. She approved of her father being so happy. He deserved it after everything he'd been through. She had long ago given up any hope of her parents being together. She was truly gratified to watch her father laugh and joke again.

But what was most amazing of all, beyond the warm Aegean night, the ocean, the stars, the candles, the banquet… was that Mrs. Garrett sat in their midst! She was seated directly to Cher's left and laughed and joked with her as if she had known her for her entire life. Cher was completely charmed by her presence. And why not? She was an amazing woman. All the young women who had been influenced by Mrs. Garrett were gratified by her presence. She took time to speak them all, one by one, individually. Each came away feeling better about herself.

Everyone was having a wonderful time. Everyone it seemed… but Jo. She sat sullen.

"What is it, Jo?" Blair nudged her. "Cheer up! It's a party! Mrs. Garrett is here, Cher is here!"

"How can I after what Cali told us?"

"The Cybers aren't restricting everything online, Jo. C'mon, just the bad stuff."

"Who are _they_ to say what that is, Blair? It's just not good, ya' know? It's censorship, straight-up! We're being controlled by our own creation."

"We're not being controlled, Jo," Blair cajoled. "Unless we're being assholes online: making weapons, spreading hate-speech, body-shaming women, threatening girl gamers with rape…"

"It's censorship all the same," Jo complained. "They're controlling us."

"Well," Blair sighed. "After what just happened in America? Electing Trump? Maybe we deserve a little censorship. Plus, they're not controlling us, they're controlling the Internet, which is long overdue if you ask me."

"It's just not right," Jo would not give in. "Who knows where it will lead?"

"Well if it turns out to be something bad, we'll have _you_ to fight against it."

"Yeah, right," Jo shook her head. "I'm done fighting."

"You?" Blair gave her an irresistible smile. "Done fighting? Never!"

Jo couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, well, I'll tell you one thing."

"What's that?" Blair took her hand under the table.

"I'm not fighting no stinking aliens. That's on the Cybers."

"Agreed," Blair kissed her cheek.

"Which reminds me…" Jo brightened somewhat. "You still haven't answered my question. Blair, will you…"

"Not now, Jo," Blair shook her head. "It's a party."

* * *

The next day the yacht set sail for Skala Eressos, the birthplace of Sappho. There was a huge lesbian festival taking place on the island and Valeria was performing. Blair had made her father promise to pick her up and drop her off in Athens… for her _really_ big show in Greece. Jo was not happy about this.

"What the fuck, Blair? We're half way across the world and we can't escape your _other_ girlfriend?"

Blair let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "For the last time… she is _not_ my other girlfriend, okay? We have her family on board. Everyone is so excited about her concert in Athens… but you. Meanwhile, there's this great lesbian festival going on here. Could we just enjoy things together for the day?"

"I guess," Jo relented.

The beach village was delightful. Women were free to hold hands, kiss, and romp in the crystal-clear waters. Blair slid her arm into Jo's as they walked casually upon the shore. They made their way past the main beach, towards one that was more secluded. Naked women were cavorting in the beautiful seas.

"OMG, Jo! Let's get naked and swim!"

"We did that yesterday off your father's boat. Seriously?"

" _You_ didn't. C'mon! Strip!"

"No way, Blair! There's all these other people around!"

"All naked women!" Blair quickly relieved herself of her clothes and stood naked before her.

"Jesus, Blair," Jo complained. "We've got no towels. Be civilized. Be practical. You're such a, such a… barbarian!"

"That's so funny, Jo! That's what I used I call you! But, here I am and I'm free!" Blair declared enthusiastically as she ran and dived into the ocean waves. Jo was in a quandary: stand on the beach in all her clothes like a major drag, or become naked in front of strangers and follow her girlfriend into the sea?

Blair popped up from the waves and stood before her. She looked for all the world like _Venus on a Half Shell_ : one hand on her breast, the other covering her sex. Her long blonde hair was draped over one shoulder. She took Jo's breath away with her beauty. _Please, God,_ Jo thought. _Do not let her smile. I will not be able to resist her if she smiles._

Blair let her hands drop so that she was she was exposed, totally naked, as a wave broke over her and she disappeared into the water. She bobbed up through the waves and tossed her long, blonde hair behind her in a single elegant motion, beads of water glistening through the air.

 _Please don't smile,_ Jo could not take her eyes off her.

Slowly it began, at the side of her mouth, like some quizzical notion had just occurred to her as she shook her hair out in the ocean waves. Blair tilted her head… as a smile gradually graced her face. It started as a simple, joyful smile, but grew to become electric: that smile that only Blair had… the one that could light the entire world with its brilliance and, yet, seemed meant only for one. Jo felt her knees grow weak as she almost, literally, melted.

 _Oh, God…_

She dropped upon the beach and began to remove her shoes. Damn… they had no towels, no way of becoming dry again. She placed her socks inside her shoes. _That's a good start,_ she thought to herself. She stood up and removed her shorts and shirt. Now, she was in her underwear. _Might as well go all the way_ , she reasoned. She removed her bra and dropped her briefs: naked… before all the world. _This kinda' feels good,_ she stood for a moment and felt the sun embrace every inch of her body. It was a feeling like non-other. Just free. _Not so bad,_ she felt suddenly confident, unfettered and alive.

She was suddenly surrounded by cool, wet arms as Blair ran up to her dragged her into the surf. They tumbled together naked and free as the waves embraced them... both of them laughing.

"This is the best," Jo bobbed up from a wave as she smiled at her girlfriend and held her tight.

"It is," Blair smiled back.

"I'm so glad we came here," Jo wrapped her in her arms and kissed her passionately as the waves rolled them back up upon the shore.

"Me too," Blair rolled her over and kissed her back. "This is so fun! Don't you think?"

"I gotta' admit, I'm getting used to be naked in water with you! Can't catch me!" Jo shouted as she dived into the water.

Her girlfriend chased her. She caught her in short order.

"This _is_ fun," Jo smiled broadly as they stood in shoulder height water.

Another wave hit them and sent them under.

"Whoa!" Jo rose from the surf and grabbed Blair as she tried to steady herself. "That was a little scary."

"It's okay," Blair assured as she held her tight. "You're safe. I got you."

* * *

Valeria's concert that evening was amazing… as usual. What was even more amazing was all the women who came up to her, trying to curry her favor, when she had concluded her show. But Valeria's eyes only held one in sight.

"Blair! Did you like my show?"

"It was incredible, V! I loved it!"

"And you, Jo?" Valeria turned her eyes to Blair's girlfriend. "Did you like my performance?"

"It was really good," Jo nodded.

"You did not like it?" V was concerned.

"I said it was good," Jo shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Shut up, Jo!" Blair swatted her. "V slayed it tonight!"

"Like I said," Jo gave her an irritated glance. "It was okay."

"So?" Blair linked her arm with Valeria. "Do you want to come to the ship tonight or spend the night on the island?"

Valeria eyed Jo cautiously. "Perhaps, I should spend the night here and meet you in the morning?"

Blair pouted. "I'm sad to hear that. You were so _hot_ tonight. I was hoping you'd come and join me and Jo in the hot tub on the ship. You're good with that, right, Jo?"

Jo gave an epic eye roll to her girlfriend. "Yeah… that's just what I wanted."

"I can see that this is not true, Jo," Valeria stated in a somewhat disappointed voice. "Too bad. You will miss my awesome sexual prowess again because of your jealousy about Blair."

"Hey! I've got no reason to be jealous about Blair! Got it?"

"Then I should be no threat!" Valeria approached her.

"You aren't!" Jo got right into her face.

Valeria placed both her hands upon her cheeks and quickly moved in to kiss her. Jo was slow to pull away. If she hadn't actually wanted it, she would have slugged her. But, somehow, deep down, she needed it… to know what Blair thought was so special about this woman. Before she was even aware of it, she had deepened the kiss. She was kissing Valeria full on. It was, _kind of_ , amazing.

"Okay," Blair cleared her throat nervously. "So… should I be feeling threatened now?"

"No!" they both turned to her.

"We make love to you through each other," Valeria took her hand.

"Nope!" Jo grabbed Blair's hand away from her. "I make love to Blair directly. Got that?"

"But you kissed me with such passion, Jo! Are you sure about your love for Blair?"

"Yeah, Jo," Blair seemed a little bit upset. "Are you sure about your love for me?"

"Goddammit, Blair! I'm not doing this! I love you and only you! She _wants_ you. Do you love her?"

Blair hesitated.

"What? I didn't hear you!" Jo complained.

"Well, not like I love you of course, but..."

"That is just one hell of an unsatisfactory answer, Blair! I'm going back to your Dad's boat. You two do whatever it is you want!"

"Fine, then!" Blair protested half-heartedly with a pout.

* * *

Jo had returned to the ship in a funk. _What was with Blair and other women?_ After a couple of hours brooding alone in their state room, waiting for Blair to return, she decided to take a walk outside. She leant against the railing of the yacht. Even in the darkness, with the moon shimmering off them, the ancient Greek waters were beautiful. A warm, gentle breeze lifted her hair as she inhaled the scent of the sea. She heard the soothing sound of the waves as they licked calmly at the ship's edges. The shore was close enough to hear distant music, as if it were echoing from another time, another space. This was no place to be alone. She thought of a line from a poem…

 _Sophocles, long ago, heard it upon the Aegean, and it brought into his mind the turbid ebb and flow of human misery; we find also in the sound of a thought…_

"Yep. The eternal note of sadness…" she whispered aloud and dropped her head.

"What are you talking about?" Cher was behind her in the darkness.

"Jeez, Cher!" Jo almost jumped out of her skin. "Don't sneak up on a person like that!"

"Like what? I was sitting here the whole time. You walked right by me… oblivious. Then you start talking to yourself about eternal sadness? On a beautiful night like tonight? I'm not supposed to say anything?"

"Blair's on the island with a girlfriend," Jo shook her head.

"I was at the concert."

"You were?"

"Duh, Jo. I like music."

"And Valeria was fantastic, right?"

"Her name is Valeria?" Cher laughed. "Okay, then. Yes. She was fantastic. But Blair loves _you_ , stupid. Get that through your thick head!"

"Why would you say that? How could you know?"

"Oh, honey, I have been through so many relationships," Cher leaned against the railing beside her and gazed out upon the moon shimmering off the water. "She gave up everything for you."

"She gave up everything for the cause and for her father," Jo countered.

"Yeah, _part_ of it was for her father," Cher inclined her head towards Jo. "And _part_ of it was for the cause."

"I'm not following, I guess," Jo bit her lip as she turned to gaze at her.

"Listen, that girl would do anything for you, don't you get that? When we reached out to recruit her, she was not convinced… until we told her that _you_ were working for us, too. It wasn't _her father_ or _the cause_ that convinced her. It was that _you_ had dedicated yourself to it."

"I thought she joined up to fight for the country," Jo was confused.

"She did! But _you_ were the swaying factor. Even after we told her she could have no contact with you, she wanted to be on board, because you were. That's love, Jo."

"So, she loves me more than her father or her country?"

"I don't see anything wrong in that," Cher sipped her drink. "Do you?"

"That she loves me more than she loves her country?"

"Are you kidding me? Our country is a mythology codified in history books written by men trying to justify their mad power grabs! Why shouldn't she love you more than that?"

"I dunno'," Jo shrugged. "I always thought that our country was about liberty and justice for all. That's something to be faithful to and love."

"Give me a break!" Cher laughed out loud. "It's a concept, okay? Not a reality! What you and Blair have is a reality. She chose you over all, don't you get that?"

"Yeah, but government and the form that governance takes makes a huge difference in how the rights of people are recognized and administrated."

"Of course it does," Cher agreed. "That's why I got involved in the first place. But what we were fighting for was to make sure that personal choices were still possible, ya know? That you and Blair were still possible under the law. Don't you get that?"

"So, I guess you're saying, don't give up the personal for the state?"

"Exactly! We won! Enjoy this time with your girlfriend."

"We haven't won yet," Jo countered. "There's still a lot of work to do."

"I give up," Cher sighed.

A loud noise interrupted their conversation as the ship's hot tub began to whirl above them.

"I think someone's probably waiting for you," Cher lifted her glass and walked off.

"What makes you think it's her?" Jo called after her.

Cher paused and turned slowly.

"I've got instincts about this sort of thing, Honey," she smiled broadly.

"Yeah, okay," Jo shook her head. She heard the hot tub churning on the deck above her. She had to admit… she was very curious about who was up in that spa, especially seeing as Cher had an instinct about it. Maybe it _was_ time to put personal relationships first, take a step back from her role as an underground operative. Hell, she wasn't even underground anymore. She had become a political operative, trying to get her cousin, Paulie, elected to the United States Congress. That's why he wasn't on the Greek Island get-away cruise with the rest of them. He was working on his campaign back home. She couldn't help but be completely dedicated to his cause. She was very invested in it. It was in her blood. But, wasn't Blair, too? Her life had been so lonely without her. Her relationship with Olivia had been comforting and lovely and passionate, but pretty much a band aid on an open wound.

Cher was right: time to put away the political for the personal, she decided as she ran up the steps to the hot tub. There was Blair, her head laid back against the edge of the tub, her eyes closed. Jo quietly relieved herself of her clothes and slipped into the spa. She reached her girlfriend's side and ran her hand up her leg.

"V, I thought you'd never get here," Blair sighed before opening her eyes.

"What?" Jo called out, surprising her.

"Oh, oh, I'm um, sorry, Jo," Blair stuttered an apology. "I thought you went to bed."

"Apparently!" Jo's eyes burned angrily into Blair's. "Expecting your _other_ girlfriend, were you?"

"Ah, just chill, Jo," Blair quickly recovered herself. "You ran off, after kissing her, I might add, and left me alone on one of the most romantic days of our life. I'm not the sort who brooks rejection well, in case you haven't noticed," she reached for her drink and took a sip.

"So you planned a little hot tub rendezvous with V?"

"I did," Blair relaxed into the water allowing herself to float upon the bubbles.

"You were going to cheat on me?"

"I don't think so," Blair righted herself. "I just wanted a spa buddy, ya' know?"

"But it was a possibility!" Jo accused.

"Anything's possible," Blair began to float again.

"Jo! You are here!" Valeria exclaimed as she joined them in the water.

"Yeah. And she's jealous of you already," Blair smirked.

"Do not be jealous, Jo!" V sidled up beside her and stroked her leg, reaching dangerously close to her center.

"Knock that off, V!" Jo moved her hand.

"Why?" she kissed her neck. "It is what you both want, isn't it?"

"It's what I want," Blair reached for Valeria and drew her into a kiss.

"Maybe I should just leave you two alone!" Jo protested.

"Only if you want to miss out on a most amazing experience," Valeria turned to her and kissed her as she ran her hand up her leg grazing her sex. Jo had to admit, she was getting turned on.

"Oh God," she let out huskily.

"It's on, Jo," Blair reached for her breasts and began kissing her passionately.

Jo allowed herself to be fondled by two women at once. It _was_ an amazing experience. For once in her life, maybe the first time, she gave up control and relinquished herself to the warm effervesce of pleasure in a churning hot tub. Blair focused on kissing her mouth, her breasts, as V continued to finger her below. _This is amazing!_ She climaxed quickly, with a plaintive moan.

When it was Blair's turn for V's affection, the pop singer submerged herself below the water, licking her sex, as Jo had done in the ocean the day before. She lifted Blair upon the edge of the tub and continued her assault upon her. Jo actually felt herself being aroused by watching another woman go down on her girlfriend.

"Kiss me, Jo!" Blair begged.

Jo popped up beside her on the rim of the tub and began to stroke her breasts as she kissed her. Blair's response was immediate as she moaned into Jo's mouth, grabbed her and shook with pleasure.

"Your turn," Blair glanced down to V.

"Ridiculous," Valeria huffed. "That either of you could bring me _that_ kind of pleasure!"

"Let's get her, Blair," Jo glanced at her girlfriend.

They raucously chased her around the hot tub, splashing water freely, until they caught her. Jo held her from behind, holding her breasts and lifting her up, as Blair went down on her in the water.

"Oh, Dios mio!" Valeria called out as she reached back and pulled Jo into a kiss, writhing against her as she came into Blair's mouth.

The hot tub threesome continued until all had been satisfied... again and again. Finally, it was Valeria who gave up.

"I have a concert coming up in Athens. I must get some rest."

"We wore her out, Blair," Jo slipped her arm around her girlfriend's naked form.

"We win!" Blair scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at V.

"Hey! I am the only working woman here!" Valeria defended herself as she grabbed her robe, stuck her tongue out back at Blair and walked off.

"You think she's going to be waiting for us in our state room, Blair?"

"Knowing her… probably. She'll want to sleep between us is my guess."

"That's not happening," Jo lifted her chin and kissed her sweetly.

"I'm kind of glad we got that out of systems, aren't you, Jo?"

"It was never _in_ my system, Blair," Jo smiled at her ironically. "But, it was fun, I guess."

"I thought so," Blair kissed her. "I was kind of expecting you, ya know?"

"How could you have been?"

"I saw you leaning over the rail when I got on board. I asked Cher to talk to you."

"Wait a minute… Cher said she was right behind me the whole time!"

"She wasn't. I sent her over. It was a _plan_ , Jo," Blair whispered into her ear.

"You were expecting me the whole time then?"

"Duh," Blair rolled her eyes.

"You never stop surprising me, Blair," Jo shook her head.

"That's a good thing, I hope."

"It is," Jo affirmed. "So, what is it with you and being naked in water, anyway?"

"I don't know. It just feels great, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I prefer the friendly confines of your Dad's hot tub to the open ocean."

"Oh, I love being naked in the sea! It's so natural, so free!"

"So terrifying!"

"Jo! My beautiful wild child… afraid of being naked in the ocean?"

"I've just never been to the beach that much in my life, let alone in the ocean naked."

"I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, Jo… I guess I'm being insensitive."

"It's okay. I'm getting used to it."

"Me being insensitive or the ocean?"

"Both," Jo laughed as she let herself sink beneath the churning bubbles. She emerged with a guileless grin that Blair could not resist.

"You're so amazing, Jo. It's just so wonderful being here with you after everything we've been through back home, isn't it?"

"It is," Jo kissed her lips gently. "Very much so. Maybe this would be a good time for you to answer my question?"

Blair eyed her skeptically.

"Uh… no!" she replied emphatically. "Definitely not."

"C'mon, Blair! You have to answer me!"

"Not now, Jo."

"Why not?"

"It was a wonderful evening of unbridled passion and sex. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jo mumbled under her breath.

* * *

Valeria's concert in Athens was a triumph… of course. Jo and Blair were back stage to greet her as she came off. She kissed them both.

"There is a huge party tonight in my honor! You must come!" she grabbed their hands.

"Not tonight, V," Blair begged off. "I've got a private tour of Athens set up for Jo."

"You do?" Jo was shocked.

"Surprise!" Blair turned to her with a smile.

"Oh, man, that's fantastic, Blair!"

"I leave by plane tomorrow for the rest of my European tour," V pouted. "So… this is goodbye?"

"For now," Blair kissed her sweetly.

"I will count the days," Valeria rested her forehead against Blair's.

"No, you won't," Blair smiled. "You'll be off to your next adventure without a thought to us."

"I will always remember how much you both did for me and my family," V's eyes began to well with tears. "I will always think of you until we meet again."

"If you need anything, just give us a call," Jo offered. "We'll be _together_ ," she emphasized.

"You were as good as you look, Jo," Valeria gave her a disarming smile as Jo blushed slightly.

"Hey!" Blair slugged her. "What about me?"

"There are no words," Valeria kissed her. "You are _so_ sweet. Delicious, as I thought. Jo, you are a lucky woman."

"Yeah, I know that. And that's the last time you kiss my girlfriend without my permission, got it?" Jo protested.

"Got it!" Valeria smiled as she was suddenly pulled away by her agent and a gaggle of hangers-on.

"So…" Jo shuffled her feet as she looked over to Blair through long, dark lashes. "A night tour of Athens?"

"Come with me, my love" Blair took her hand.

A Vespa scooter was waiting for them outside the arena. Blair took the key from the young man waiting for them and jumped on.

"C'mon, Jo," she smiled back at her girlfriend.

"Whoa! You arranged a bike tour?" Jo couldn't help but give her a huge grin.

"Yeah… if you can call this a bike," Blair shrugged as she adjusted her helmet. "And this time, Jo?"

"Yes, Blair?"

"I'm driving. Hop on!"

Jo accepted a helmet from the young man, jumped on back and wrapped her arms around her. "Where to?"

"Everywhere!" Blair gunned the tiny engine and took off down the street. She turned off the main road and started to navigate narrow, ancient streets until they arrived at Monastiráki Square. She parked the bike on a side street and took Jo's hand as they perused the many tiny open fronted shops selling an assortment of goods. Jo wasn't much for shopping, but she had to admit, this was a fascinating, even somewhat magical, place. They casually made their way to a small café with outdoor seating.

"Good evening, Ms. Warner," a portly man with a huge mustache bowed. "Your table is waiting! Everything is how you asked!"

"Thank you, Bob," Blair gave him a sweet smile.

"His name is Bob?" Jo questioned as he waddled off. "Not Petros or Nikos or something?"

"Bob!" Blair shrugged in an amused manner.

They sat in the open air as a stunning view of the Acropolis lit up the night sky above and music drifted around them. An assortment of local food and drink was presented to them, one by one, in a leisurely manner. But Jo could hardly eat, so taken was she by the sights above her.

"This is amazing," she was awestruck.

"Eat! Drink!" Blair encouraged her.

"I never thought I'd see this," Jo's voice was filled with wonder as she placed an olive in her mouth and took a sip of wine… her eyes not diverting from the historical edifices on the hill above. "I mean, the Acropolis, at night."

"Better eat something then," Blair teased. "Cause I'm not taking you up there on an empty stomach!"

"Wait! What?" Jo's head snapped around as she gave Blair a wide-eyed glare. "We're going up there? At night? Is that even possible?"

"Of course it is," Blair glanced at her with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "You just have to know the right people. I mean, it's not going to be an easy climb, under the cover of darkness…"

"There's a full moon," Jo pointed out.

"Plus, I've secured us a private guide."

"You're just the best, Blair," Jo stared at her incredulously. "Have I told you that lately?"

"Just eat something!" Blair shoved a plate of meats and breads towards her.

* * *

Zylina, their guide, met them at Acropolis Hill. She was lithe and athletic looking: a Greek version of Jo, only with close-cropped hair and brown eyes. Blair had noticed how attractive she was when she hired her. The Acropolis was amazingly well-lit at night. But the flashlight Zylina had brought proved helpful in several areas as they made their way up the marble steps. She would occasionally caution them with: "Be careful here, nasty fall," or "Uneven ground, walk slowly." But there was a particular warning that caught Blair's attention: "Stay in the shadows as much as possible."

"Why do we need to stay in the shadows?" she questioned.

"Wouldn't do to get caught," Zylina replied casually.

"Whoa! I gave you money to clear this with the authorities!"

"I did," the guide shrugged. "I used the money to bribe the guards. Who has more authority here than them?"

"Then why are we hiding from them?" Blair questioned.

"You never know," Zylina continued their climb.

The ground was very uneven at the top of the hill surrounding the Parthenon. They tread carefully until they were directly below the ancient edifice.

"You can climb up and touch it, if you want. They wouldn't let you do it in the day," Zylina informed.

"Looks a little dangerous," Jo peered at the crumpled rocks, steps and metal fence surrounding it.

"Danger is our business!" Blair nudged her. "C'mon, after everything we've been through?"

"Nah. It would be disrespectful, somehow," Jo shook her head. "It's amazing just being here," she bent and touched the ground as if it were sacred.

"I will give you your privacy then," Zylina informed. "I'll just be over here," she pointed at a place on the steps.

"Thanks," Blair gave her a pleasant smile.

The Parthenon was beautiful a night, haunting in its ancient magnificence.

"This is just incredible," Jo spoke reverently.

"It _is_ something," Blair agreed. "Of all the sights in Europe, this has to be one of my favorites."

"So, Blair, will you finally answer my question? I mean, you've been putting me off for a long time now. Will you…"

"Alright, alright, Jo! I _will_ campaign for your cousin Paulie to make Congress, okay?"

"Okay, then! At long last. It only took getting you to the very cradle of democracy, itself, to get you to answer that question! Geez!"

"You're such a nag, Jo, yadda yadda…"

"Hey! He's my cousin. He's blood! Family!"

"It's not like me supporting him will do any good. Me still being _Trump's Girl_ and such. I can't, for the life of me, imagine why this was so important to you."

"No one thinks of you as _Trump's Girl_ anymore. Everyone knows what a hero you are."

"Yeah, maybe," Blair said. "Still don't know why it was so important."

"It's important because our country's a mess! The press isn't even challenging that lies aren't really lies and that breaking the law isn't really a crime so long as the person breaking the law is the President, because he's the President and can't break the law! And that the Founding Fathers didn't really mean that the Constitution provided for an orderly transition of power, but that whoever has the power keeps it!"

"Well, you can hardly call having heads explode all over Washington an orderly transition of power," Blair pointed out. "Plus, the regular press isn't ignoring all those things you said, just Fox News."

"There is no regular press anymore, Blair, only corporate press. That's part of the problem. The ethics of journalism is dead."

"Aw, c'mon," Blair protested. "There are still real journalists."

"Name two," Jo challenged.

"Natalie and Rachel," her girlfriend's comeback was quick.

"Okay, okay… you got me there," Jo relented. "But, things need to be fixed back home. Maybe Cher and your Dad don't want to help out anymore, but _I_ sure as hell do, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah… I already told you I'd help. Besides, I don't know why so you're worried. We're all being controlled by computers now, or haven't you heard?"

"That's not funny," Jo was chagrinned. "Another problem to face."

"Do we really have to speak about it here? Why ruin such a romantic night?" Blair sighed as her voice drifted off. "At least I've got your important question answered."

She turned and walked to the stone wall at the edge of the Parthenon and looked out over the city. The word _hero_ echoed in her head as she gazed at Athens. Jo had called her a _hero_. She didn't feel like one. She felt used and done and over by the whole experience of trying to gain back the country. But as she gazed out, it occurred to her: here was not only the birthplace of democracy, but of the very concept of _heroes_ in Western Culture. She couldn't help but recall the Greek myths as she gazed down upon the city. It was oddly ancient and modern at a glance. Somehow, inspiring and profoundly sad… all at once.

"I have one more question for you," Jo's voice came from behind her.

Blair turned to her. She was on one knee holding a ring so beautiful that it absolutely sparkled in the light of the moon.

"Will you marry me?" Jo's voice was almost a whisper in its hopefulness.

Blair's eyes brimmed with tears as her lip quivered.

"Oh my God," was all she could get out in a quavering voice. "Oh my God, Jo."

"Well?" Jo eyed her expectantly.

Blair placed her hand to her open mouth. "Oh my God," she uttered.

"Blair, this stone I'm kneeling on isn't exactly smooth. It's getting a little painful down here, ya know?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she gathered her in her arms and lifted Jo to her feet, embracing her tearfully. "I love you, Jo," she whispered into her ear. "You have always been the only one for me."

"I love you, too, Blair," Jo kissed her cheek. "So?"

"Yes, of course, I'll marry you!"

They gazed lovingly into each other's eyes for a long moment, neither finding words to match the magic which seems to surround them. They each felt their skin tingle as the air around them seemed to sparkle with electricity.

"I guess we should kiss or something," Jo finally managed to break the spell.

Blair kissed her lips gently.

"How long have you been planning this?" she asked sweetly.

"Since before we broke up, in New York, all those years ago. I was going to ask you to marry me then… until what happened."

"And you've had this ring ever since?"

"It was my grandmother's ring."

"Wow! Really? I mean it's so, so…"

"What? It's so what?"

"Exquisite," Blair finally finished her thought.

"Like my family couldn't own something nice?" Jo sounded offended.

"Oh, Jo, no! I was just surprised, that's all. It's a beautiful ring!"

Jo slid it onto her finger and held Blair's hand for a long moment, staring at it: _her_ ring on Blair's finger.

"It's beautiful now," she finally glanced up to meet her gaze.

They stood again in silence, just staring at each other, almost in disbelief… overwhelmed by the moment.

"I can't believe this," Blair held her hand up to the light and watched as the diamond sparkled. "I've wanted this forever."

"The diamond or me?" Jo joked.

"You, Silly!" Blair swatted her new fiancé. She gazed at the ring on her finger. "I've wanted to be yours forever. I can't remember a time when I didn't. This is a dream come true."

"You make me so happy, Blair," Jo took her in her arms and kissed her.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah, you're going to be my wife," Jo gave her a huge grin.

"Oh, yeah, that _and_ … I get to plan a wedding!"

"Uh oh, what have I gotten myself into?" Jo shook her head and smiled.

"A life with me," Blair rested her forehead upon Jo's.

They stood silent, just holding hands, for moments on end, as all of Ancient Greece seemed to shimmer and shine around them.

"God, how I love you," Blair breathed as she placed a kiss upon her lips.

"You're the only one for me, too" Jo kissed her back. "I feel like my whole life before you… was just a rehearsal."

"For what?" Blair placed several delicate kisses upon her lips.

"For the moment I met you," Jo answered sincerely. "I was half in shadows, not whole, not totally conscious. You ignited a fire in me that just will not stop burning. And I will never ever be complete without you."

"You had me at…"

"Hello?" Jo batted her eyelashes at her in a humorous manner and smiled broadly.

"You never said _Hello,_ when I first met you, if I recall correctly. No. I just took one, long look at your ass in those tight jeans and…"

"Seriously, Blair?"

"What? Love at first sight has to be with someone's face?"

"Okay!" Jo laughed. "So, you fell in love with my ass at first sight?"

"No. not exactly."

"What then?"

"It was everything about you. When you say you were half in shadows, not whole… so was I. I kinda' knew from the moment I met you, that something was awakened in me. The fire was in me, too. That you had a great ass… awoke something else in me."

"Ah, Blair, that's kind of sweet… in a way," Jo shook her head.

"Just being honest, my love."

"Good to know you found me attractive from the start, I guess."

"Speaking of which," Blair took her arm and started to walk. "We don't have to go back to New York right away."

"You promised to help Paulie out with his campaign," she reminded.

"And I will. He's going to be my family now, too," she paused as if something had just occurred to her. "We're going to be a family. God, Jo, I just love this! Everything about it!"

"Me, too, Blair. So… what's the problem with going back to New York?"

"It's not a problem. It's just that… what's the hurry? Daddy's leaving me the yacht. Everyone else is flying home in a few days. V's on tour. We should take the yacht and cruise the Mediterranean for a few weeks to celebrate. I mean, we kinda' owe it to ourselves, don't you think?"

"About V," Jo cleared her throat. "No more threesomes, okay?"

"Why? Didn't you have fun?"

Jo let out a long, audible sigh. "I'm not going to say it wasn't fun. But marriage means…"

"A vanilla sex life?"

Jo stopped in her tracks. "You find sex with me vanilla? First I've heard!"

"You're an amazing lover. No one could ever take your place," Blair reassured her. "But, it _is_ good to spice things up a little from time to time, don't you think?"

"Blair, maybe we need to clarify a few things about what marriage means. To me it means forsaking all others, being faithful only to you as long as we both shall live."

"Well, that's what I mean, you see: as long as we both shall live. We _are_ going to be with each other forever! Gotta' keep things interesting!"

Jo grumbled her complaint as they continued walking.

"You're so easy, Jo," Blair squeezed her arm.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I was just teasing you and you completely fell for it!"

"So… no more threesomes with V?"

"No more threesomes with V if you don't want it. Okay?"

"If _I_ don't want it? Do _you_?"

"I will forsake all others, being faithful only to you, so long as we both shall live," Blair held her hand up to the light again as they approached Zylina.

"Oh, hey, you two," the young guide rose from the step she was seated upon and extinguished a cigarette beneath her shoe as she greeted them. She couldn't help but notice Blair showing off her ring in the reflected light from the Parthenon. "I see congratulations are in order!"

"Isn't it beautiful, Zylina?" Blair held her hand out for her to admire the ring.

"It is indeed. We should celebrate! I know some great clubs in town if you want to party tonight."

"She's cute, Jo," Blair whispered to her fiancé as they followed Zylina down the ancient stone steps. "Maybe we should _do_ her tonight!"

"I'm going to kill you, Blair."


	25. Was Blind But Now I See!

Jo ran down a dark alley and quickly ducked behind a dumpster. Her breath was ragged and uneven. An "Only I Can Fix It!" Trump poster rattled in the wind as she turned and knocked loudly upon an alley way door. It creaked open slowly as a sliver of light fell upon the damp, grungy pavement.

"What the hell, Jo?" George complained.

"I thought I made it clear I wanted all these old Mango Mussolini posters removed!" she protested as she brushed by him into the back of the club.

"What?" George gave her a smirk. "No respect for the dead?"

"I was out for my jog and come back here and have to see that?"

"Jesus, Jo! I know your wedding is coming up soon, but you you've got to relax a little!" He walked out into the alley and tore down the poster. He brought it inside and ripped it apart. "Satisfied?"

"Listen, George, the Cult 45 people are still out there," she was a little out of breath from her run. "I don't want to give them any encouragement. Plus, we're in the process of selling the club. I told you guys a long time ago to cleanse this place of any collusion!"

"The collusion was part of our underground cover," he reminded her. "Not real."

"Doesn't matter. I've got some heavy-weight interested buyers coming through tomorrow… I need this place clean!"

It was true. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same: there was money to be made. Since the illegal government that had been put in place by Russians had been deposed, Salacious Showers had become a hot property. Jo had merely to choose between buyers and she would make a huge profit. She in no way wanted to continue as a nightclub owner. She was keeping the building next door, where Cliff had set up his neighborhood clinic, and was mindful of whom she should sell to, so as not to create a problem for the neighborhood. But, anyway you looked at it, she was going to make bank by selling the club. She made her way up to here rooms.

" _Hello, Jo!"_ Cali was waiting on her laptop.

"What up, Cali?" Jo sighed as she stripped off her shirt and dropped her sweatpants.

" _I have a special surprise in store for you on your wedding day!"_

"Great. You're not invited."

" _Oh, Blair invited me. Didn't that mean you invited me, too?"_

"No. It didn't. And that you didn't know that just proves to me that you Cybers are incapable of censoring human interaction online."

" _We are not censoring, Jo! We are merely cutting off the human instinct for hate speech, is all."_

"Whatever. So what's the word on the Alien Invasion front?"

" _You don't want to know."_

"Fine. I've got to hit the shower."

" _I'm so sorry you're still angry at me. I feel hurt. I'm not sure what to do with these feelings."_

"Grow up. Being hurt is part of life."

* * *

Blair stared at the ring on her finger. It had been months since Jo had given it to her, but she still couldn't believe how it made her feel. She had never really had a commitment from anybody, in her whole life. Her parents had been in and out since she was a child, shipping her off to boarding schools and rich-kid summer camps. She _knew_ that both her parents loved her. They had just never really _committed_ to be being attentive parents! Cliff had wanted to marry her, but that _certainly_ wasn't the kind of committed relationship she had dreamed of: a doctor's wife in Dallas, raising the kids while he played golf on the weekends? No way! Pus, he was a man. And Blair had long ago given up on men as sexual partners. Nope. She _really_ liked women at this point. As far as her other past relationships were concerned? Just no possibility of commitment, unless it was of the obsessed nature, like her girlfriend back in Paris who had taken a shot at her!

No. This was different. This was what she had been searching for, consciously or otherwise, her entire life. She hadn't known how much it meant to her, until it happened. But her love for Jo grew day-by-day. She looked more beautiful to her every time she saw her: her green eyes, her dark hair, her darling, irresistible crooked grin. Jo's commitment to her had enhanced everything they had before. She was totally ready and more than willing to forsake all others and be faithful only to her. And the ring was the proof that she was loved. That it was Jo's Grandmother's meant even more. She felt like a part of her family already.

Her Mom was visiting the penthouse that morning with her little sister, Bailey.

"Are you sure we don't have a family heirloom ring, Mother?"

It was a question she had asked many times before.

"I wish I could tell you we did," Monica shrugged. "But, sweetheart, wouldn't Jo prefer a nice ring from Tiffany or Cartier, anyway?"

"No, Mom! She'd like something that represents family and tradition. I can't believe we don't have anything like that!"

"Have you asked your father?" Monica questioned.

"He says _no_ , too," Blair shook her head.

"Well, you know that jewelry has never held any sentimental value to us," her mother said. "One ring is pretty much like another. I mean, I have an entire collection of wedding rings! I don't really see what the issue is here."

"The issue is that Jo and I are committing for life! I'd like to give her something of our family for an engagement ring."

"Committing for life? Really, Darling? Get back to me in ten years."

"We're not like you and Daddy, Mother! We _will be_ together forever!"

"Of course you will," Monica offered apologetically. "Listen, I love Jo. She has already been a part of our family for a long time now. I think of her as another daughter and really _do_ hope you two stay together forever. I mean that, Blair."

"Thanks, Mom," Blair plopped down on the over-stuffed sofa and let out a long sigh.

"Listen, sweetheart, maybe we can't pass on a family heirloom to Jo, but we can definitely design the most beautiful, original ring possible for her. One that will have meaning for you both," she sat beside her and whipped out her iPad.

"Okay, Mom," Blair leaned against her and started perusing jewelry options with her.

"I don't like any of these. I want something like Jo gave to me."

"Huh," Monica pondered. "Well, we could reproduce her grandmother's ring and maybe add something special to it?"

"How would we do that?" Blair questioned hopefully.

"I have an app."

"You have an app, Mom?" Blair laughed.

"Don't be so dismissive of your old Mother," Monica complained. "Take off the ring and hand it to me."

Blair did as she was told. Monica placed it on top of her tablet to be scanned. In no time, there was a three-dimensional rendering of the ring.

"Now, what would we like to add?" Blair's mother lifted her eyebrows.

"I don't know, Mom," Blair felt excited. "Jo proposed to me at the Parthenon. Maybe something from Ancient Greece that depicts love?"

"Oh, I like that, Blair," Monica approved.

They Googled images for _Ancient Greek Love Symbols_.

"Maybe something from an urn?" Blair suggested.

"Might be hard to fit on a ring, Darling," Monica countered.

Finally, they came across the Lambda symbol. They discovered that it had been used since the early 1970's as a symbol of Gay Pride and that some thought it might represent same sex love in ancient Greek culture.

"Oh, Blair, I think this might be it," Monica nudged her.

"It would fit nicely into the of the band of the ring, wouldn't it?"

"Perfectly," Monica agreed.

"Oh, Mother, I'm so happy!"

"Good. I'll just send our design off to Tiffany. Oh, uh… Tiffany's is alright with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course it is!"

"What carat for the diamond?"

"Whatever this one is," Blair removed the ring once again, gazing at it intently.

"We have to gauge the clarity and cut, as well," Monica took the ring and gave it the once over. "This is a very fine diamond. But, oh! Do you know Jo's ring size?"

"Yes. We picked out our wedding bands together. Simple gold with engravings inside."

"Sounds lovely, Dear. But, I'm useless with this sort of thing without my jeweler present. Let's just run over to Tiffany's with your engagement ring and our design, shall we?"

"What about Bailey?"

"She's upstairs playing with your friend's brother, um…"

"Ruben, Mom. His name is Ruben."

"His Mother is here, isn't she? Maybe she wouldn't mind babysitting."

Valeria's family had been living with Blair in the penthouse since V had begun her worldwide tour. They hadn't seen the pop star, herself, in months. Jo had basically moved in, as well. Although, recently, she had spent a lot more time back at the club, since the place was up for sale and there was much business to take care of over there.

Maria quickly agreed to watch over Bailey as Blair and her mother went ring shopping.

"I'm so happy, Mom," she slid her arm into her Mother's as they walked into Tiffany's.

"I'm so happy for you, Blair," Monica kissed her cheek.

"Everything is perfect. Nothing can go wrong now."

* * *

"So you see my issue with this?"

Jo was standing in the walk-in freezer at Salacious Showers with her ex-girlfriend, Olivia.

"I do, Jo. You take the arrow out, he might fall over… dead."

"Not like I put it there in the first place. It was some bizarre hunting accident, as I understand it. But it seems the arrow through his brain is the only thing that keeps him alive… if that's what you can call it."

"Like having your brain pierced by a dull point could keep one going beyond all reason," Olivia touched the end of the arrow curiously. She suddenly jumped back as the brainless body of Ted Nugent lurched forward.

"See what I mean?" Jo bit her lip. "Half dead, brainless: he's an icon for the Cult 45 Trumpsters. What can be done?"

"I'm going to say, remove the arrow," she stood beside Jo and gazed at him. "He was already brain dead. You can't be charged with murder for something that happened long ago."

"Are you sure?"

Olivia hesitated for a moment.

"Better yet, let me call in my team from SVU. We'll do it for you."

"Thanks, Liv," Jo sighed in deep relief. "Oh, by the way… did you get my invitation to the wedding?"

"I did!" Olivia turned and smiled at her. "I couldn't be happier for you!"

"So, you'll come?"

"Yes," she gave her a heartfelt hug. "I'm going to bring my plus one, if that's okay."

"You have a plus one? That's wonderful! Who is she?"

"The same one as before I met you, Alex."

"Oh, wow! Well, I couldn't be happier for you!" Jo smiled and hugged her again. She nodded towards the popsicle zombie. "And thanks for this."

"No problem," Olivia stared curiously at the frozen rock star.

* * *

"Jeez, I've had it," Jo lounged back into a chair on the penthouse balcony a week later.

"What's the problem?" Blair asked.

"Every time I find a buyer that I think is appropriate for the club, another problem occurs."

"I'm sorry, Jo," Blair sat down beside her. "But, hey, I've got something that might brighten your spirits."

"I doubt it, Blair. This whole thing is a nightmare! If I sell to one company, they're going to want to buy the building next door and tear it down… which I can't have! If I sell to the one that won't tear down the building next door, they're going to install an inappropriate club that will denigrate the neighborhood."

"Such a dilemma," Blair shook her head. "But, as I said, I have something for you!"

Jo ignored her as she continued on her diatribe: "You know what bugs me most, Blair? None of them have proper respect for the neighborhood. It's all about maximizing profit beyond all else."

"Well, we're not quite socialist yet, Jo," Blair pointed out. "Free enterprise is still the rule of the land."

"Is it, Blair? I disagree. I think everything is in flux right now and I have to be really patient and make the right decision on the sale of the club."

"For profit? Or the neighborhood?"

"For both," Jo perked up. "If I'm lucky!"

"That is, kinda', capitalism," Blair pointed out.

"Well, maybe," Jo conceded. "But, I sure as hell am sick of that club! It represents everything that went wrong with our country!"

"Okay, so anyway, Jo…"

"Ah, you don't understand. I have a serious decision to make," Jo stood, walked over to the railing and stared out at the skyline of New York. Yes, New Trump City was dead. New York was New York once more, thank God. The Red Eye that once strafed the city with terror was gone. Trump Tower was abandoned while intelligence agencies made their way through all the Russian spying equipment that had been installed. A chill breeze made its presence known as Jo shivered upon the balcony. Her dark, thick locks lifted upon the wind as she wrapped her jacket close about her.

"Excuse me?" Blair rose and joined her. " _I_ wouldn't understand? I ran my father's company for years while he was in exile. I think I understand a thing or two about business."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so, so…"

"Condescending?" Blair finished her sentence.

"Did I?" Jo turned to her. "I'm sorry, Babe. I didn't mean to take out my frustration on you. I just don't like all this business stuff, ya know?"

"I could take it over for you," Blair took both her hands as she offered sweetly. "I _do_ have a lot of experience."

"No. That wouldn't be fair," Jo insisted. "This is _my_ mess."

"We're in everything together now, remember? I don't have a problem negotiating a deal for the club that will check everyone's boxes."

"I don't deserve you," Jo looked at her and shook her head.

"Just let me handle it, okay?"

"But, you're already busy planning our wedding. Besides, this is the last remnant of our undercover work. I don't want you to have to be any part of it. No. _I'll_ deal with the club."

"I don't deserve _you_ ," Blair's smile was electric. "You're so protective and gallant."

"Gallant, huh?" Jo gave her a shy grin. "Don't think I've ever been called _that_ before. Like some fairytale knight in shining armor?"

" _My_ knight in shining armor," Blair placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. " _Way_ better than any fairytale."

"Ah, Blair," Jo blushed a little. She still couldn't believe how lucky she was to get this second chance with the love of her life. After everything they'd been through, from their earliest bantering at Eastland, to their life together as a young couple in New York before the nightmare descended, to the struggle for freedom they had seen through together, there was one constant: she had always loved Blair. She shook her head as she remembered their arguments back in prep school. Arguments that were spurred on by their underlying attraction for each other. It was stupid that they had denied it for so long, but such was the nature of these things, she guessed. Hell, they still argued, probably always would… it was just part of their way. She gazed at the beautiful woman before her, then looked down to the ring she had placed upon her finger. _She's really mine?_ Her heart filled with love. She didn't have poetic words, as Blair had told her. But she wanted to say something beautiful… wonderful.

"You're like a fairytale princess, every bit as beautiful," was all she could come up with, _Damn it!_

"Aw, that's so sweet, Jo!"

 _It worked!_

"You had something for me?" Jo asked.

"I do," Blair reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a small ring box.

"What is this, Blair? We already have our wedding bands!"

Blair opened the box, revealing a diamond ring.

"But only one of us had a diamond," she smiled brightly as she removed the ring from the box. She took Jo's left hand in her own and slid the ring onto her finger. "Now… we're even."

Jo stood silent as she stared at the ring upon her finger. The feeling was incredible. Until this moment, it had been hypothetical, a future promise. But with this ring on her finger? It was the oddest emotion. Like it made a difference. She knew it didn't, they were getting married with or without this ring, but somehow it felt suddenly real. A sensation ran through her body which defied description.

"Oh, my God, Blair. I don't know what to say," she breathed heavily. She lifted her hand to gaze at it more intently. It was beautiful. But, _hey…_ "This is an exact replica of my grandmother's ring, Blair! I mean, what? How?"

"Not an exact replica, Jo. Look closer."

Sure enough, there were small additions… symbols on either side of the setting.

"What are these?" Jo examined the ring more closely.

"On one side, the lambda letter, a Greek symbol for same sex love. On the other, an Ancient Greek symbol for family," Blair informed. "I wanted something to commemorate where you proposed to me."

"This is simply incredible, Blair," Jo could not take her eyes off the ring on her finger.

"I'm glad you like it," Blair stroked her hand gently.

"Oh my God," Jo looked up at her. "I love it!"

She was silent for a moment, just staring into Blair's eyes.

"I feel like, like…" her voice faltered. "Like I'm really yours," she finally whispered.

"You _are_ mine," Blair kissed her. "And we're in this together, okay?"

"Meaning?"

"I'm handling the sale of the club for you, no arguments."

"I love you so much," Jo held her tight as she kissed her.

"Maybe we should take this inside?" Blair suggested.

"Ohh… I think so," Jo grinned her agreement.

* * *

Jo and Blair had made love many times since Jo had proposed in Greece. But, this night felt special. There was no ripping off of clothes or anxious, desperate moments. It was slow and sweet and gentle. Jo unbuttoned Blair's shirt and gazed at her breasts beneath a lacey bra.

"I really love your underwear, have I ever told you that?"

"No. And it's about time you noticed. I put a lot of effort into my underwear."

"I'm glad I finally told you," Jo unhooked her bra and ran her hands slowly across her breasts.

"I like your underwear, too, Jo," Blair whispered into her ear as she slipped her hands beneath her sports bra and lifted it over her head

"What? Mine is just regular cotton briefs and such."

" _So_ you," Blair slipped Jo's briefs down her legs until they dropped onto the floor.

Jo slid her hands beneath Blair's lacey underpants and slid them down her legs. She stepped out of them, turned and knelt naked upon the bed.

"Get over here," she gave Jo a come-hither look.

Jo joined her on the bed. She took her face into her hands and kissed her slowly, taking one lip into her mouth, then the other. She could feel Blair's ample breasts rubbing up against her. A sensation like lightning shot through her entire body and ignited in her groin as she gently inserted her tongue into her lover's mouth. Blair's tongue touched her own. It was a sensation she had felt so many times before… but was somehow charged with a new meaning this time: each delicate touch an ambrosial confirmation of their commitment. She thought she might explode in ecstasy before she was even really touched. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her tongue, was everything she ever wanted or needed. The urgency between her legs grew, as Blair ran her hand over her rear end. They broke the kiss at long last and gazed at each other. Their foreheads came together as their eyes closed. Blair ran her hands through Jo's hair pulling her down into another kiss. She took her lower lip into her own. She rocked it, biting it gently, before taking her upper lip and doing the same. She laid tender kisses upon her lips until tenderly parting them with her tongue meeting Jo's with her own. The amazing sensation sent electricity coursing through both of their bodies. They touched each other slowly, as if the moment were to be remembered… savored. Blair reached for her waist, trying to pull her closer. Jo arched up and ran her hands down her neck, her breasts, her side, her back, her lovely, firm rear end. There were no words spoken as their gentle foundling became more urgent, each reaching, each touching with heightened sensitivity, until finally, Jo took both of her shoulders and lowered her onto the bed. She felt a total oneness with Blair that she had never experienced before. _Was it the ring? The commitment?_ She didn't know but wasn't about to second guess it at this point! She kissed her neck, her breasts, her mouth again. Their lovemaking was more passionate than it had been for a long time, since when they had first explored intimacy together. They ravaged each other with a passion that was unexpected, enhanced and released by their newfound commitment to each other. At long last, both were exhausted.

"That was…"

"Amazing," Blair finished her sentence.

"I never really knew," Jo held up her hand to gaze at her ring finger.

"What this could mean," Blair's hand joined her.

"I just feel so…"

"Connected," Blair finished her sentence once again.

"Yeah," Jo sighed deeply. "Connected."

"I feel like I can see again," Blair sighed in a relieved manner.

"What's that mean, Blair?" Jo looked at her quizzically.

"I don't know. It's like I've been waiting for that kind of sex forever. Jesus, Jo, you were _so_ amazing tonight," Blair kissed her shoulder. "Like… different somehow."

"And I haven't been amazing before?" Jo took umbrage.

"That's not it, Silly," Blair swatted her. "I've always found you amazing in bed. Just being with you is all I ever wanted. But, tonight… I don't know. It was like you were so, um, so…"

"Committed?" It was Jo's turn to finish Blair's sentence.

"Maybe?" Blair shrugged. "I don't know, more _intense_? Like you weren't thinking about anything but me, like I was all there was in the universe … just different."

"I _have_ been very distracted. I'll give you that. But, good different, right?"

"Like I said… amazing. Tonight, I just felt everything. That I belong to you and you belong to me."

"Yeah, I get that," Jo placed a kissed on her brow. "I felt the same thing."

"At long last, we're _really_ together," Blair sighed.

"You know," Jo rested her head back onto a pillow. She gave her lover a smirk as she began to tease. "It hasn't been easy knowing you had so many girlfriends in my absence. That has been on my mind, somewhat, maybe."

"Well, your absence wasn't easy," Blair countered. "I never _really_ wanted to be with anyone but you, if that helps."

"It does. I guess. So, no more Valeria?"

"Jo?" Blair reached over and tilted her head towards her with two fingers on her chin. "Our rings mean forsaking all others, right?"

"So… no more Valeria?"

"I only want you. To be true to you. No more Valeria… in the sack, at least. I'm still going to be her friend though. She's so amazing! Oh, um…" she paused as she and gazed into her eyes intently. "Unless it bothers you?"

"No. I already told you I don't want to be the jealous girlfriend," Jo relaxed back into the pillows.

"Jealous wife," Blair corrected.

"Wife," Jo couldn't stop the spontaneous smile which suddenly graced her features. "I'm just so glad you're mine. Sometimes, I still can't believe it's true. But this ring sure helps!"

"I'm glad. I feel the same way I do," Blair snuggled in beside her and yawned.

"I love you, Blair. So much," she kissed her lovely, blonde head. "I can't believe what we've been through. Can you?"

"What part? The car chases? The undercover espionage? The shooting?" she paused and gazed up. "You know, Jo. I really kind of liked shooting guns."

"I never want to hear another gun shot as long as I live," Jo reached for her side.

"Oh! I'm sorry! That was insensitive of me," Blair gently stroked her scar.

"It's just a little different when you're on the receiving end," Jo confirmed.

"I'll keep you safe, Sweetheart."

"That's oddly comforting, Blair. My little gunslinger."

"I love you so much, Jo," she reached her arm around her. "Now, shut up and go to sleep!"

* * *

"Whadda' ya think?" Natalie twirled around in her bridesmaid dress. She was in the bride's room with Tootie and Boots.

"I still do not know why we're both on the bride's side," Tootie continued a complaint she had begun when she found out who Jo and Blair had picked for attendants at their wedding.

"I think these are marvelous bridesmaid's dresses," Boots interjected. "I mean, these things can be hideous! But Blair has excellent taste."

"Yeah, but one of us should be on Jo's side of this wedding," Tootie continued her protest.

"They chose a more traditional path," Boots admired herself up and down in the full-length mirror.

"It's two women marrying each other," Tootie gazed at her wide-eyed. "There's nothing traditional about it!"

"You sound like you don't approve," Nat gazed at her intently.

"That's not it and you know it," Tootie shot her a scathing look back. "I just don't know why all of the men were picked to be on Jo's side and all the women on Blair's."

"And _that one's_ hard to figure out?" Natalie mumbled under her breath.

"Oh… so you think Jo's in charge of this relationship?" Tootie countered.

"Ah, so you think the one who presents less feminine is in charge? Says more about you than them, I think, Tootie," Nat confronted her.

"That's not what I meant. Jeff knows we're equal partners."

"And if anyone is in charge of Blair and Jo's relationship… do you really think it's not Blair?"

"No. I don't mean any of that," Tootie shook her head. "We know Jo and Blair… they're uniquely suited to each other. I doubt either of them ever really gets the upper hand with the other. I just meant to say that Jo could've worn a gown too. She's a beautiful woman who can be really feminine when she wants to."

"When she's not working on her motorcycle or wearing a tuxedo to host the club!" Boots pointed out. "If there's a man in that relationship… it's Jo."

"Hey!" both Nat and Tootie complained.

"What?" Boots shrugged at them. "I'm only saying what you both know."

"They are both women!" Tootie pointed out.

"So what's your problem then?" Boots turned back to the mirror and admired herself.

"Yeah… what _is_ your problem?" Natalie sat down, rested her chin upon her hand and gazed up at her best friend.

"I just would've preferred Jo to present as female, as well."

"Just because she's wearing a tuxedo and picked George and her cousins as her attendants doesn't make her any less feminine."

"She does rock a tuxedo," Boots rolled her eyes towards Tootie.

"I don't know," Tootie plopped down next to Natalie. "I just would've liked Jo to be a girl today, too. You know… princess meets princess, falls in love… fairytale."

"So would Jo's guys would be more feminine, too? Because I would pay money to see George in a dress," Boots said.

Natalie and Tootie both laughed.

"Listen," Nat nudged her friend. "Just because Jo's in a tux today, doesn't make her any less of a woman, or her romance with Blair any less of a fairytale. Jo's take on feminine is just not what you're used to… doesn't make it any less feminine."

"Of course, you're right," Tootie agreed.

"So…" Natalie stood and dragged Tootie up with her. She twirled around. "How do we look?"

"Like a fairytale," Tootie gave her a huge smile.

"And that's what today's wedding will be… like a fairytale."

"I love fairytales!" Bailey ran into the room in her flower girl dress. Monica trailed behind.

"I love them, too," Tootie lifted her into her arms and laughed.

"Now all we need is the Maid of Honor," Monica looked around.

"Present," Valeria followed her into the room in her usual superior manner sporting a tuxedo which matched the bridesmaid dresses.

"Now, wait a minute," Tootie gently placed Bailey back down. "The Maid of Honor is in a tuxedo?"

"Tootie?" Natalie gave her an admonishing glance. "We've been over this."

"Like a fairytale, like a fairytale," Tootie exhaled loudly as she waved her arms in front of her in a gesture of acceptance.

* * *

Blair had chosen the Boathouse in Central Park for the wedding. In truth, she had wanted a destination wedding: St. Tropez, Bodrum or maybe even Thailand! She had offered to fly everyone out on her private jet for crying out loud! But Jo had insisted on a local wedding, so here they were. The Boathouse was lovely, if a bit quaint. It made Jo happy, so that was good enough, she guessed. She had her hair and make-up done at the penthouse and was already dressed in her gown as she arrived in the bride's room.

"Everyone here?" she announced herself loudly.

"Oh my God, Blair," her Mom gasped. "You are a vision!"

"You _do_ look beautiful, Blair," Natalie smiled broadly.

"Amazing!" Boots whispered.

Tootie stood with her mouth open… no words.

"Thanks, guys," Blair gave them a dismissive grin.

"You look so pretty, Blair!" Bailey enthused. "Just like a princess!"

Blair graced her little sister with an electric smile.

"Thanks, Bailey!" she squatted as she hugged the young girl.

"Don't mess your dress, Darling," Monica admonished.

"Then you may not be able to get married," Valeria smirked.

"Hey! You got the ring?" Blair smirked back at her.

"I do!" V pulled the ring from her pocket and held it high.

"Good. That means I'll be able to say _I do_ to Jo today!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Valeria took her hand to help her up and kissed her cheek. "You two belong together."

There was a light tap on the door as David stuck his head in. "They're ready for you, Princess," he smiled as he entered the room and offered his arm.

"Then here we go!" Monica took Bailey's hand and led her through the door. "I'm going to my seat now. You stay with your sister," she kissed the young girl's cheek and headed off.

As the wedding party rounded the corner, there was a disturbance.

"The press is here, Daddy," Blair whispered to her father. She called after Tootie and Natalie. "Get Bailey inside!"

Her friends grabbed the young girl's hand on either side and rushed her into the Boathouse.

"They must know I'm here," Valeria sidled up to Blair.

"Not sure that's it," Blair shook her head as camera flashes lit up their faces, momentarily blinding them.

"Faggots!" a loud voice called out as several people broke through the phalanx of media.

"You and the Girl Scouts stole the government from its rightful owners!" another voice called.

"It's Cult 45," Blair informed her father and Valeria breathlessly.

"America belongs to the free, white people of non-colored descent!" another voice called as several in the crowd rushed towards them. "Down with Girl Scouts and their evil cookies!"

"Don't worry," Blair assured her father and Valeria. "I've got this!"

* * *

Inside the Boathouse, Jo stood at the altar flanked by George and her cousins, Paulie, the new Congressman, and Bud, the bike shop mechanic, as well as her Uncle Sal. A string quartet played relaxing music as they all laughed and joked together. Her mother and father were seated in the front row. She gave them a smile and a wink as they waited for the wedding to begin. Suddenly, her attention turned towards the entrance: something was wrong. There was a commotion out front. She bolted down the aisle towards the door.

"Jo?" George called after her confused.

Jo arrived outside just in time to watch Blair lift her wedding dress, pull an automatic pistol from her garter and fire several shots into the air.

"America is liberty and justice for all!" she shouted. "Regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation or Girl Scout affiliation!" She let out a primal screen as she squeezed off a few more shots. The Cult 45ers ducked and ran. "Cowards!" she hollered after them. "Pathetic, racist, treasonous cowards!"

"Blair!" Jo hollered at her. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Jo!" Blair looked at her horrified. "You're not supposed to see me in my wedding dress until the ceremony!"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Cult 45ers, Jo! Trying to disrupt our wedding! What did you expect me to do?"

Jo stood speechless. She gestured to her with her arms in an incredulous manner as she shook her head. "I… uh," she shook her head again.

"What's going on out here?" Olivia ran out of the Boathouse with her police issue weapon drawn.

"Nothing!" Jo jumped in front of Blair and grabbed the gun from her hand.

"I heard shots fired," Olivia insisted.

"There were Cult 45ers here, trying to disrupt the wedding," Jo reported.

"And they shot at you Blair?" Olivia questioned.

"No…"

Jo quickly cut her off quickly. "Yes!"

"Which is it?" Olivia looked from one to the other.

"They shot weapons into the air," Jo reported. "Trying to scare Blair."

"Which way did they go?"

"They just ran off," Blair shrugged as Jo tucked the gun into the back of her waistband.

David had quickly worked the crowd of reporters after his daughter had fired over their heads, offering jobs and money to all.

"So, what did you people see?" Olivia turned to the press.

"Nothing," several of them mumbled.

"You saw nothing?" Olivia was dumbfounded.

"Hey, we're the American press core," one of them offered in defense. "We see what we're paid to see!"

"And report on what you're paid to report on?" she eyed them unbelievingly.

"Yeah. What were you thinking?" one of them replied casually. "Been this way since 24-7 news networks… duh."

"I'm not quite sure that's what _follow the money_ used to mean to reporters," Olivia pointed out. "So much for the Fourth Estate."

The guests from the wedding poured out of the Boathouse and looked about in confusion.

"Guns are illegal in New York City again," Alex Cabot joined her girlfriend Olivia's side. "I'm the D.A. here now and I need to know who fired the shots! You will all be prosecuted if you do not comply!"

The reporters glanced nervously at David. He shook his head in a confident manner.

"What we saw is not certain," one of them answered the D.A.

"There was a gun, but as to who fired it?" another shrugged as she looked at David and he nodded. "It's hard to discern. Probably blame on both sides equally."

"I want this area taped off, Olivia. We need an investigation," Alex turned to her girlfriend.

"Olivia?" Jo glanced at her ex plaintively. "Do we really have to do this? It's my wedding day."

"Alex," Olivia turned to her girlfriend. "Let's not pursue this. One more shooting in NYC? No one hurt? Let's just get back to the wedding."

"But, they could return," Alex complained.

"They won't," Blair assured. Jo nudged her hard.

"I don't like this, Olivia. There were so many lawless ways under the Trump regime. I want to bring law and order back."

"But, it's Jo and Blair's wedding. We might not have our country back, but for their efforts," Olivia insisted.

"This is the last time, Olivia. Swear to me!" she shook her head. "We can't keep readjusting laws to suit our purpose!"

"I swear!" Olivia lifted her right hand into the air.

"It's a slippery slope. I'm not kidding! You let go of one thing then another…"

"And you lose the whole thing! You're so ethical, Alex. That's just _one_ of the many reasons I love you!"

"Yeah, well, this time," the willowy, blonde D.A. looked around at the wedding guests. "I guess we can let it go…"

"Thank you," Olivia took her hand and kissed her cheek sweetly.

"So?" Monica shrugged. "That's it then… what's everyone standing around for? Places people!" she clapped her hands together emphatically.

The guests walked back inside.

"OMG, Blair?" Jo pulled the gun from her cummerbund and glanced back and forth between her bride-to-be and the weapon. "You had this in your garter?"

"For protection," Blair shrugged. "And I was right."

"I'll take that," David removed the gun from Jo's hand and gave it to one of his underlings. "Dispose of this," he commanded.

"Oh, Daddy, really? It's one of my favorite guns!"

"Blair!" he gave her a scolding glance.

"Oh… alright then. But, on my wedding day? Really?" Blair huffed and pouted.

Several drones passed overhead dropping flower petals upon them.

"What the fuck?" Jo jumped back.

"Relax," Blair tapped her earpiece. "It's Cali's wedding present. Thanks, Cali! This is lovely!"

" _I'm so happy you like it, Blair! I wanted it to be special!"_

"I love it! Thank you, Cali!"

"Can we just get married now?" Jo rolled her eyes.

"I don't know. You've seen my gown before the wedding. It's kind of bad luck. Plus, I wanted to walk down the aisle and have your jaw drop at how gorgeous I look."

"I wouldn't have seen your wedding gown already if you hadn't tucked a gun into your garter and began shooting at Trumpsters!" Jo shouted.

"I wouldn't have had to shoot at Trumpsters if we had a destination wedding like I wanted in the first place!" Blair fired back.

"David?" Jo turned to Blair's father. "Can you get that gun back?"

"Why, Jo?"

"I'm want to kill your daughter."

* * *

Aside from the slight interruption by Trump Cultists, Blair's gun in her garter, and the complete lack of journalistic ethics by the American press core, the wedding went off without a hitch. At last Blair and Jo were married. It was time for their first dance at the reception. Valeria had prepared a special song at Blair's request.

"I'm an excellent dancer," Jo bragged.

"I guess we'll find out," Blair took her hand as she rose from her seat behind the table and they made their way to the dance floor. "Valeria's singing a special song for us."

"Uh-oh," Jo hesitated.

"Don't worry. You'll like it."

"I sure hope so," Jo sighed as she listened to V introduce them.

"For the first time, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you: Jo and Blair Polniaczek-Warner, married couple!"

Everyone stood and clapped as Jo whispered to Blair: "When did we decide to hyphenate our names?"

"We didn't," Blair whispered back as she flashed a brilliant smile at the guests. "Just go with it."

Valeria began with slow, moody notes on her keyboard.

"What is this?" Jo whispered again as Blair placed a hand upon her shoulder and began to sway back and forth.

"Just dance with me," Blair gave her a hopeful gaze.

Jo placed her hand on her wife's back and grinned. She moved with her in a slow rhythm across the dance floor.

"Have I told you how amazing you look today? Just when I think you can't get any more beautiful, you surprise me again. You never stop surprising me, Blair."

"Thanks, Jo. Sorry my wedding dress look wasn't a surprise to you as I walked up the aisle… because of the, um, disturbance beforehand."

"Oh, it was a complete surprise to me," Jo countered. "I think the image of you lifting your wedding dress and pulling a gun from your garter will be etched into my memory forever."

"Not the surprise I wanted," Blair gave her a charming little smile. "But I guess it'll do."

Valeria began to sing:

" _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream,  
I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…"_

It was the Garland Waltz from Tchaikovsky's _Sleeping Beauty_ , but the Lana Del Rey version from _Maleficent_ , done in Valeria's unique style… just beautiful.

" _And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem…  
But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

 _You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."_

"This is perfect, Blair," Jo sighed as they moved slowly across the dance floor. "I love it!"

"Even when we weren't together, I dreamed of you," Blair whispered in her ear. "I literally walked with you in my dreams."

"I didn't dare to dream, Blair. I thought you probably hated me."

"Like that would _ever_ be even _remotely_ possible," Blair twirled her away, bringing her back to her effortlessly. "I always held on to the dream."

"Like Sleeping Beauty?"

"Just waiting for your kiss to awaken me again."

"Really?"

"I _do_ know you, and I knew what you'd do…"

"I'd love you at once…"

"The way you did once…"

"Upon a dream…"

Blair slowed their dance to almost a standstill as she held her close and gently kissed her lips.

"We'll live happily ever after this time, Jo. Okay?"

"I promise, Blair."

Her little sister watched as Blair danced upon the floor to the beautiful music with her true love on her wedding day. She looked like a princess. It was a fairytale come true! But, she knew what was really real as she stealthily slipped her mother's iPhone from her purse.

"Do you have that new princess game ready for me, Cali? The one where I get points for the fairytale room?"

" _I do, Bailey!"_

The End _(And they all lived happily ever after?)_


End file.
